


Rarely Simple and Never Straightforward

by Yassandra



Category: Atlantis (UK TV)
Genre: Adventure, Family, Friendship, Gen, Hercules does get them into trouble an awful lot, Hurt/Comfort, Stranded
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2018-04-30
Packaged: 2019-04-29 17:19:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 27,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14477523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yassandra/pseuds/Yassandra
Summary: When Hercules manages to find a job that will take Jason and Pythagoras out of Atlantis for a few days, it seems relatively simple and straightforward. Unfortunately, things rarely go to plan where these three are concerned. Alone and cut off, Jason & Pythagoras can only rely on each other to survive while Hercules sets off to find and rescue his friends.





	1. Remind Me Why We're Doing This?

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Round 7 of the Small Fandom Big Bang, and also for Hurt/Comfort Bingo for the 'Stranded/Survival Scenario' prompt.
> 
> Please go and check out the lovely artwork by MistressKat [here ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14492154) and give the artist some appreciation too :-)
> 
> The art is integrated into the story.

 

* * *

 

 

 

The early morning sun streamed down through the leaves of the trees to throw dappled light onto the ground below. This early in the day, the air was still cool enough to be comfortable, yet it held the promise of being stiflingly hot later on. The only sound was the gentle rustling of leaves and the sweet song of the birds. Gradually though, another sound began to intrude itself on the peace of the scene: the sound of feet moving through the trees and of quiet chatter. Finally, two young men came into view, wandering through the trees. Whilst it was clear that they weren’t walking aimlessly, they also weren’t hurrying along.

“How do we always seem to let this happen?” Jason demanded, slashing crossly at a bush with a long, whippy stick he had picked up from somewhere.

Pythagoras looked at him an amused grin, eyes sparkling.

“It is because you simply have to help anyone that comes to you asking for it,” he pointed out, “and I have never yet managed to say no to Hercules.”

“Yeah but even so…” Jason said.

“Besides,” Pythagoras went on, “Hercules was right: we _do_ need to earn some money or we will go hungry.”

“He could have come to help though!” Jason grumbled.

“To be fair, he was right about that too,” Pythagoras replied with a grimace. “This really _is_ a two man job and since he was offered that guarding job too, it made more sense for him to stay in Atlantis and do it. That way we will have a little reserve of cash to tide us over.”

Jason grunted.

“As long as Hercules doesn’t drink or gamble it away,” he said.

“I will endeavour to make sure that we get our share and Hercules does not claim all the pay,” Pythagoras answered, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smile. “I will hide my share away where he cannot find it.”

“Not under the floorboards in your chamber,” Jason advised. “He knows about that hiding place.”

“How does…” Pythagoras began, sounding a little startled. “Never mind,” he added with resignation. “I am not sure I wish to know.”

His eyes sparkled with amusement.

“Actually I believe I have come up with the perfect hiding place for our spare money,” he said.

“Where?” Jason asked. “Because he’s always found it before now.”

“I was thinking of hiding it in amongst my mathematical equipment,” Pythagoras answered. “I do not believe Hercules would ever look there. You know how he feels about my work and my triangles after all.”

Jason chuckled, his face transforming from a grumpy expression into his more usual sunny smile.

“That should work,” he agreed with a grin. “I can’t see Hercules rooting through there of his own accord.”

“Precisely,” Pythagoras replied. “And you have to admit, getting a job was a good idea.”

“I know,” Jason admitted, casting his mind back to the previous morning.

_The day was only just beginning – the street traders only just setting up their stalls in the agora and surrounding streets – when Hercules stumbled in through the door of the house he shared with his two younger friends. How he had made it home and up the stairs in the state he was in was anyone’s guess; one of those mysteries that perhaps weren’t meant to be solved._

_Pythagoras, coming out of his room in search of breakfast, stopped and looked at him in surprise. Hercules was not known for being an early riser._

_“You are up early,” the young genius observed. “Or is it late?” he added, his tone hardening as he saw his friend swaying on his feet._

_Hercules ignored him and stumbled across to a cupboard on the wall. He lifted the lattice door that closed the front and started rooting about inside (although it wasn’t clear what he was searching for) before giving up and letting the front drop back down, narrowly avoiding his own head. He turned to face Pythagoras, lurching as he did but managing to keep his feet somehow._

_“You are drunk,” Pythagoras accused._

_“I may have had one or two tiny drinks,” Hercules slurred, “but I was negotiating with Idas the merchant…” he paused and scratched his belly. “I was negotiating… and then I was celebrating.”_

_Pythagoras sighed._

_“I know I will regret asking this but what were you negotiating?” he asked, starting to clear and clean the table._

_“We need money. Somebody in this house needs to get a job,” Hercules announced._

_“As I have been telling you for some time,” Pythagoras retorted._

_“Iss important,” Hercules declared, his speech becoming ever more slurred. “We need money. We need food.”_

_He belched loudly just as Jason came in from the street, jug of water in one hand and a fresh loaf of bread tucked under his arm._

_“Morning,” Jason said, making his way across the room and putting the things down on the table. “Charming!” he added with a grimace, waving a hand in front of his face as Hercules farted._

_“You have been to the market already?” Pythagoras asked. “Jason, you are a star.”_

_He wasn’t completely sure what the phrase meant but he had heard Jason use it many times when he was happy about something that one of his friends (usually Pythagoras) had done, so surmised that it was something good. From Jason’s pleased smile, he knew he had been correct._

_“I have got us a job,” Hercules proclaimed. “Ooh breakfast,” he added spotting the bread on the table and beginning to lumber unsteadily towards it._

_“A job?” Jason asked._

_“What sort of job?” Pythagoras said suspiciously at the same time._

_Hercules, attention diverted by the bread on the table, ignored him and reached out one meaty hand to grab the food. Being very drunk (and still quite a long way from the table) he missed, his hand closing on thin air. He frowned, growled to himself, lurched sideways and tried again._

_“Hercules,” Pythagoras said, stepping between his burly friend and the table, effectively blocking the food from sight. “I asked what sort of job?”_

_Hercules stopped and stood swaying on the spot. He blinked owlishly at his friend._

_“Iss a good job!” he declared. “A re-e-eally good job! ’Ss good!”_

_“Yes but what sort of job?” Pythagoras asked with exaggerated patience._

_Hercules frowned in confusion and blinked at him again. Then, like a great tree toppling, he passed out, falling flat on his face on the floor._

_His two friends came and stood over him, looking down at him._

_“Just a few more paces and he would have actually made it to his own bed,” Jason observed with a rueful grin._

_“Wake up, you drunken fool,” Pythagoras said loudly, giving Hercules’ inert form a light kick to try to wake him up. “I am ashamed to call you my friend.”_

_Hercules didn’t stir._

_Pythagoras knelt down beside him._

_“Hercules,” he called, slapping the burly wrestler across the face. “Come on! Wake up!”_

_Hercules grumbled in his sleep but didn’t wake._

_Pythagoras looked up at Jason with exasperation._

_“I cannot wake him,” he said. “We will have to carry him to his bed.”_

_“Don’t we always?” Jason asked with a snort._

_It was an amused snort rather than a sign of anger though – and he was right, they had carried Hercules to bed far too many times (although it was usually in the middle of the night when the older man came stumbling in and woke them both up)._

_Pythagoras rolled his eyes and made one last effort to wake Hercules up using techniques that he had tried in the past with varying degrees of success._

_“Hercules!” he called, patting his friend’s face forcefully as he pinched the big man’s nose closed. “Hercules! Wake up!” He punctuated his final words with a sharper slap across Hercules’ face._

_Hercules snored loudly in response._

_Pythagoras sighed._

_“Nothing doing,” he said to Jason. “I simply cannot persuade him to stir.”_

_“Come on then,” Jason answered. “Let’s get him into bed.”_

_He crouched down next to the burly wrestler and dragged one of Hercules’ arms across his shoulders, as Pythagoras did the same on the other side. With a lot of grunting and straining, the two young men managed to get to their feet with Hercules held between them, and dragged their corpulent friend across the room to his own chamber. Jason kicked the door open with one foot and they hauled Hercules over to the bed, dropping him there gratefully._

_“So what do you think he was talking about?” Jason asked Pythagoras, glancing down at their drunk friend. “What sort of job do you think he’s found?”_

_“I do not know,” Pythagoras responded. “Although, going on past form, I cannot think it will end well. He is not always as discerning as he should be when agreeing to take on jobs… particularly when money and alcohol have been involved.” He looked appraisingly at the burly wrestler. “He once agreed – while drunk I might point out – to deliver a love token to Rhoda, the daughter of Andreas the wine merchant.”_

_“It didn’t go well?” Jason asked, as they crossed the room to leave._

_“Oh no,” Pythagoras replied. “He managed to deliver it without incident – there was only one problem…”_

_“What was that?”_

_“He delivered it to Rhode, the woman who cleans out the drains in Chremonides’ bath house, not Rhoda… and she thought it was from him! She pursued him for months… and he never did get paid, given that he’d delivered the love token to the wrong woman and all that,” Pythagoras responded with a laugh. “He could not get Rhode to leave him alone no matter what he did. She was convinced that he was her true love and was going to marry her. We ended up having to take a job in Pathmos just to get away from her… and for a while it looked as though he would have to leave Atlantis forever to rid himself of her.”_

_“She wasn’t his type then?” Jason asked with a grin._

_The thought of Hercules being chased by a woman that he wasn’t interested in amused him; from the stories Hercules told of his exploits with women, it hardly seemed possible after all._

_“She had no teeth,” Pythagoras replied, “and the worst breath I have ever had the misfortune of smelling. Since she spent all day clearing the drains, she made Hercules smell positively sweet. What was worse, though, was that she was already the wife of Blathyllos… and he has the worst temper in Atlantis and an unbeaten record in the arena. He is also terribly jealous and if he had even for a moment imagined that Hercules was pursuing his wife… well…”_

_“I can imagine,” Jason answered, chuckling. “How did Hercules get out of it?”_

_“He was considering faking his own death,” Pythagoras said, unable to hide his amusement at the memory._

_“Let me guess, he was going to grow a beard and flee the city?” Jason responded._

_The two young men laughed as they caught each other’s eyes; both of them knowing only too well what Hercules’ usual suggestion in the face of any crisis was. Pythagoras poured two cups of water and made up two plates with bread and a few olives on for himself and his friend, before joining Jason at the table._

_“Of course,” he replied. “Fortunately for him, Blathyllos took a job in Helios and moved himself and his wife there before Hercules was forced to do anything drastic.” He cast an amused glance at the door to the burly wrestler’s chamber. “I suspect we will have to wait until he is conscious again to discover what he has got himself into this time,” he added._

_“And us,” Jason pointed out. “He said the job he had agreed to was for all of us.”_

_“Indeed,” Pythagoras said. “But since it is unlikely we will learn anymore about it until Hercules awakes I would suggest that it would be a good idea to eat breakfast and not worry about any potential job yet.”_

_It was much later in the day when Hercules finally got up again; the Sun had risen high in the sky and crossed over into early afternoon. The burly wrestler half staggered out of his chamber, extremely hungover, desperately thirsty and feeling the need for some wine to take the edge off his headache, to find Pythagoras calculating something at the table and Jason puttering around in the background doing something that might have been vaguely domestic but in his diminished state, Hercules wasn’t quite sure._

_As Hercules dropped down onto a bench at the table, Pythagoras looked up and pushed a cup towards him. Hercules grunted and took it, downing the contents in one swift gulp._

_“Urgh!” he protested. “That was not wine!”_

_“No,” Pythagoras replied. “It was water.”_

_Hercules frowned deeply._

_“I need wine!” he declared._

_“No,” Pythagoras retorted primly. “You do not! You are undoubtedly dehydrated and require water. Wine is the last thing you should be drinking right now.”_

_Hercules retreated into a cross grumble, head pounding a little too much to shout at his friend (however much he might want to). Jason finished whatever it was he was doing and came to sit opposite Hercules, next to Pythagoras. Both young men looked expectantly at their older friend._

_“What?” Hercules demanded, unnerved by the way they were looking at him._

_“So what’s the job?” Jason asked._

_“What job?” Hercules sounded baffled. “What are you talking about?”_

_“The job you said you had taken on our behalf?” Pythagoras said patiently._

_“You know, the one you volunteered us for without actually bothering to check it was alright with either one of us?” Jason chimed in._

_Hercules still looked blank._

_“You stumbled in here shortly after dawn, so drunk you could barely see straight and informed us you had found us all a job but passed out before you could tell us what the job entailed,” Pythagoras stated._

_Hercules blinked for a moment, his fuzzy brain taking time to catch up with what Pythagoras had been saying._

_“Oh!” he said. “The job! Yes… I was going to tell you all about it.”_

_He lapsed into silence again, blinking blearily at the cup he was holding. His two friends exchanged a frustrated glance._

_“Hercules, what **is** the job?” Pythagoras sounded exasperated._

_Hercules looked up in surprise._

_“I didn’t tell you?” he asked._

_“No!” the two young men said in unison._

_Jason rolled his eyes at Pythagoras, who shook his head in return._

_“When I went to the tavern last night, I was talking to Balius,” Hercules said as though that should explain everything._

_“Who?” Pythagoras asked._

_“You must know Balius,” Hercules objected. “One eye; lives just down the street from ‘The Tipsy Goddess’?”_

_He was met with a pair of blank looks._

_“‘The Tipsy Goddess’?” he said incredulously. “The finest tavern on the north side of Atlantis? Well… the finest tavern near the northern gate anyway...”_

_“Hercules, I do not have your intimate knowledge of all the drinking establishments in Atlantis,” Pythagoras interrupted sharply. “And what has this got to do with the job you have accepted anyway?”_

_“Well like I said I was talking to Balius,” Hercules began. “I cannot believe that you don’t know Balius, Pythagoras. He is fonder of goats than any man I have ever met. I’ve known him years. Oh… very funny story how we met actually…”_

_He trailed off when he saw the twin exasperated looks that were being sent in his direction._

_“Another time?” he asked, a little hesitantly._

_Pythagoras grimaced and nodded._

_“The job, Hercules,” he said. “What is the job?”_

_“I was just getting to that,” Hercules protested._

_“It’s taking you long enough,” Jason muttered, just audibly enough that Hercules heard and shot him an irritated glare._

_“Anyway, as I was saying,” the burly wrestler said, “I was talking to Balius last night and he happened to mention that Idas the merchant was looking for a couple of strong and trustworthy men to do a little job for him… and I thought, who’s stronger or more trustworthy than me?”_

_His friends looked at each other for a second and sniggered, trying to restrain their laughter so as not to offend Hercules too much._

_“So I went and offered our services to Idas,” Hercules went on, ignoring the two young men. “The negotiations were long and hard and went on well into the night but eventually I persuaded him that we were the men for the job.”_

_“You still have not told us what the job is,” Pythagoras pointed out sharply. His eyes narrowed. “I am beginning to think that there is something about it that you wish to hide from us,” he added suspiciously._

_“No!” Hercules protested, his hand pressed melodramatically over his heart. “How could you think such a thing, Pythagoras? Shame on you!” He shook his head solemnly, his expression mournful. “When have I ever tried to hide something from you or let you down?”_

_“Very frequently,” Pythagoras sniped. “And I think you should tell us the worst now.”_

_“There is no worst,” Hercules retorted. “It is a nice simple, straightforward job. You see Idas was travelling back from Pathmos a few weeks ago when he was forced to take shelter overnight in a ruined building no more than a few hours from here in the forest. He was alone – which to my mind is insane and asking to be robbed – but he thinks he’s less likely to be attacked if he looks poor enough. Anyway, he was in this building and he could hear all sorts of noises. He got himself all worried and fancied he heard bandits but I reckon what he heard was probably just the normal sounds of the forest. Because he was panicking, he buried part of his cargo meaning to go back for it. Only, Idas is of a somewhat nervous disposition and doesn’t want to risk it but he can’t afford to lose so much of his cargo either. He is willing to pay – and pay well – for someone to go and fetch it for him.”_

_“That actually sounds alright,” Jason said. “When do we leave?”_

_“I told Idas that you boys would leave today,” Hercules said, smiling with satisfaction._

_“What do you mean ‘you boys’?” Pythagoras demanded suspiciously. “Surely you are coming too? I cannot believe you would have taken a job on our behalves and not intended to take part yourself.”_

_“Ah,” Hercules said awkwardly. “That’s the thing… I’d love to come with you lads, but I can’t.”_

_“Can’t or won’t?” Jason asked acidly. “Let me guess, there’s a beetle race that you just can’t miss tonight.”_

_“How can you think that of me?” Hercules protested. “Have I ever done anything like that before?”_

_His two young friends looked at one another before looking back at him._

_“Yes,” they both said._

_“All too often,” Pythagoras added._

_“It’s not like that at all,” Hercules said, choosing to ignore their comments. “Idas needs someone to guard the cargo he has here too. Now I know you don’t enjoy guarding,” he looked straight at Jason. “You once told me that you nearly died of boredom… so I, out of the goodness of my heart, volunteered to do that bit myself. I hope you’ll think of me when you’re out enjoying yourselves and I am stuck on guard duty all night.”_

_“So where is this ruined building?” Pythagoras asked. “And what is the cargo we are supposed to be retrieving?”_

_“A small casket of jewels,” Hercules answered quickly. “Idas is a jewellery maker. He was bringing stones that he had bought in Pathmos back to turn into jewellery for the nobles at court. He buried it at the foot of the third pillar base from the doorway, on the left-hand side of the room. All you need to do is go and dig it up and bring it back here. As for the building itself… well, I am not entirely sure what it was, but it is North of the ruined palace at Cynus…”_

_“Isn’t that where we met Prince Therus?” Jason asked._

_“The very same,” Hercules answered. “So you’ll have no trouble finding it. The building that Idas sought refuge in was in a small valley a short distance on from there.”_

_“Hercules, that is in the heart of bandit country,” Pythagoras pointed out._

_“I haven’t heard tell of any bandit attacks in that area for months,” Hercules replied. “It should be no trouble for the two of you. We have faced worse than a few bandits after all. Like I said, a nice simple, straightforward job.”_

_Pythagoras looked at him and sniffed._

_“If there is one thing I have learned over the years we have been friends, Hercules,” he said, “it is that the jobs you take on are rarely simple and never straightforward.”_

“You do know that he volunteered to do the guarding so that he would be near the tavern and wouldn’t have to expend too much effort, don’t you?” Jason said, quirking an eyebrow at Pythagoras.

“Of course,” Pythagoras replied. “I have known Hercules for too many years not to be wise to his tricks.” He paused and looked around. “It is strange not to hear him complaining about something as we travel,” he mused. “Still, with luck we will meet with no trouble and be back in Atlantis by tonight.”

They had set out in the late afternoon the day before and spent the night in the hunting lodge where they had once arranged for Ariadne to meet with her brother. It had been nice not to have to sleep out in the open while they were away from Atlantis for once. Although Hercules was expecting them home this evening, neither Pythagoras nor Jason felt any particular need to hurry; there was plenty of time after all.

“How much further do you think it is?” Jason asked.

“I do not know,” Pythagoras answered, “but I cannot imagine it will be much further. We passed the palace ruins some miles back after all.”

Jason grunted and peered thoughtfully into the trees. They hadn’t seen any hint of thieves in their journey through the mountains so far but that didn’t mean there weren’t any lurking in the trees, waiting for unsuspecting travellers to attack. To the right, something caught his eyes and he found himself stopping and peering a little harder through the trees.

“What is it?” Pythagoras asked.

“Over there… is that a building?” Jason asked.

Pythagoras squinted at what Jason was pointing at.

“Maybe,” he said dubiously. “It is a little hard to tell at this distance. It might just be part of the mountainside.”

Hitching up the bags that they each carried to be a little more comfortable, they followed the path through the trees. It gradually curved towards the right, meandering through the trees towards the possible building Jason had caught sight of.

The two young men chatted as they walked; light banter (mainly at Hercules’ expense) or quiet confidences; stories of the past (mainly from Pythagoras) or current interests (Pythagoras again – his triangles were endlessly fascinating to him). 

 

The path began to descend steeply and they found themselves having to concentrate more on where to put their feet; it would be all too easy to trip or turn an ankle here. Conversation dwindled briefly until the path flattened out again as they reached the bottom of a valley. Cliffs reared up either side of them.

“You were right,” Jason said, looking at the cliffs. “It wasn’t a building that I saw.”

The path turned sharply to the left. As they rounded the bend, the two men stopped still and stared. Ahead of them was a lake, it’s waters perfectly still and crystal clear, split by a causeway that carried the path they stood on to the doorway of what must have once been a stunning building. It was roofless now, and here and there the walls were beginning to tumble down, but remnants of former glory remained; the frieze at the top of the colonnade, although crumbling in places, was finely sculpted and remnants of the bright paintwork could still be seen. The building wasn’t as vast as the palace at Cynus had been but was still enormous. Jason turned to Pythagoras with a faint frown.

“That is a bit grander than we were told,” he said softly.

“Indeed,” Pythagoras replied. “I cannot help but wonder that Idas did not describe it more fully to Hercules. Calling it a ruined building in a little valley hardly does either the building or the setting justice.”

“It makes me wonder what else he might have left out when he was talking to Hercules,” Jason said, looking sideways at Pythagoras.

“Yes,” Pythagoras agreed, looking at the building again.

“What do you think this place was?”

“Given the fact that it was once clearly high status and its proximity to Cynus, I would have to suspect that it was once a temple of some description,” Pythagoras answered. “Although I could not tell you which of the Gods it is dedicated to until we get closer. The position near the lake would indicate Poseidon but there are other possibilities. I know that Poseidon is the preeminent God who we worship within Atlantis, but all the Gods are revered and there are other temples within the city walls dedicated to the other Gods.”

Jason grunted in response.

As predicted, the morning had become stiflingly hot without even the hint of a breeze and a bead of sweat trickled uncomfortably down between Jason’s shoulder blades. He looked longingly at the still, clear water of the lake.

“Come on,” he said to Pythagoras. “We should probably go and do what we came here to do before I decide to jump into that lake to cool off.”

“It does look inviting,” Pythagoras acknowledged. “Although it would perhaps be best not to dive straight in without knowing what might be in the water. Many things can live beneath the surface of a seemingly clear lake and I have known instances when the most inviting stream or pool turned out to be poisoned.” He paused and looked at the far bank. “That being said, I do not believe that to be the case here.” He pointed to the far side where a doe had picked her way down to the water’s edge with her fawn. Both were taking a long drink. “If water is tainted the local animals will not drink,” he observed, “so I believe this must be safe.”

Jason rolled his eyes good-naturedly at his friend’s earnest observations.

“Come on, let’s go,” he said. “The sooner we have the casket, the sooner we can get home.”

Together they crossed the causeway to the building. There seemed no need to be overly cautious; they hadn’t seen any evidence of anyone else in the vicinity after all. As they drew near to the colonnade, Pythagoras slowed down, looking up at the frieze.

“I was right,” he said triumphantly. “It _was_ a temple. See there? The cuckoo and the pomegranate motifs? This was a temple dedicated to Hera.”

“The wife of Zeus?” Jason asked.

Pythagoras beamed. Given Jason’s sometimes patchy and sporadic knowledge of the pantheon, he was always pleased when his friend demonstrated unexpected understanding of the world they lived in. It confused him, actually, how Jason could seem relatively intelligent at times (most of the time if he were being honest) and yet so utterly clueless at others.

“Yes,” he replied. “The Queen of Heaven.” He hesitated for a moment before continuing. “We should take care to do nothing in this place that might offend the Goddess. Hera is not forgiving of those she feels have wronged her and her wrath can be terrible indeed. It is said that even Zeus fears her temper.”

“Really?” Jason asked sceptically.

“Oh yes,” Pythagoras confirmed. “Zeus has had many mortal lovers. There are… stories – a great many stories – about the fates of these lovers. In many of them, the women have met their end through Hera’s wrath. It is said that she caused Semele, mother of the God Dionysus, to be destroyed by Zeus’ lightning and that she turned Gerana, Queen of the Pygmies, into a crane simply for declaring herself to be more beautiful than Hera. It would be best not to cross her.”

“I wasn’t planning on offending any of the Gods,” Jason answered.

He looked up at the colonnade rising up in front of him and then back across the lake, eyes probing his surroundings.

“We should probably get this over and done with,” he said. “The sooner we’re out of here and on the road home the better.”

Pythagoras frowned.

“Why?” he asked. “What is wrong?”

“Nothing,” Jason answered. “At least nothing that I know of… I just have a bad feeling all of a sudden.”

“It is probably all the talk of Hera’s wrath,” Pythagoras said earnestly.

“Maybe,” Jason acknowledged. “It’s just that having already offended Hekate once, I don’t really want to upset any other Goddesses at the moment… you know?”

Pythagoras dropped his head and grinned to himself. Although it had been worrying at the time, at least they could all laugh about what had happened when Jason had fallen foul of Hekate and been turned into a kynikos now (even Jason tended to make light of it most of the time; albeit in a self-deprecating way).

They mounted the stylobate and entered the building. The chamber they walked into was nowhere near as vast as that of the great Temple of Poseidon in Atlantis but must once have been very similar in design. Light streamed down into a chamber that must once have been dimly lit by braziers – a dark and secretive place; the fact that the building now had no roof meaning that it would always be well lit in daylight hours now.

“Hercules said that we should look at the base of the third pillar on the left-hand side,” Pythagoras reminded his friend, his voice hushed.

“Over there then,” Jason replied, nodding towards the correct pillar, his tone equally quiet. Somehow it would have seemed disrespectful for either of them to raise their voice here.

They moved to the base of the pillar and looked at the ground below. The stone pavement that had once been the floor of the chamber had cracked and lifted; chunks were missing altogether, showing the hard-packed earth beneath; the effect was to leave the whole floor looking pock-marked. At the base of the pillar the paving was missing altogether, yet the ground did not look disturbed. Pythagoras knelt down and swept his hand over it.

“This is where Idas told Hercules he had buried his goods and yet I can see no evidence that he dug here,” he murmured, frowning deeply. He shook himself. “I do not suppose it matters all that much,” he added. “It may be that he is just very good at hiding things. Come on, let’s start digging. Like you, I want to be away from this place as swiftly as possible. There is something about it that makes me uneasy.”

Jason crouched down beside him and peered at the packed earth. He scraped at it experimentally with his fingers for a minute before looking up at Pythagoras.

“I don’t suppose you remembered to bring a spade, did you?” he asked hopefully, realising with a sinking feeling that he had forgotten to bring anything to dig with himself.

“I had thought that the ground would be loose and not hard to shift,” Pythagoras replied. “Given that the casket cannot be buried deep, I had presumed we would be able to use our hands. Perhaps there might be some sturdy sticks around that we could use,” he added looking around hopefully.

“Great,” Jason replied, rolling his eyes.

He grabbed the knife that was sheathed at his side and began to use the point to loosen the ground as much as he could.

“Are you going to help or are you just going to watch?” he said.

He smiled at Pythagoras to take the sting out of his words and show that he was (at least partly) joking.

“Oh,” Pythagoras said. “Sorry.”

He grabbed his own knife and joined his friend in loosening the ground. His knife hit something solid and he exchanged a quick glance with Jason. Working hurriedly, the two young men uncovered a small box not far below the surface of the floor. Jason lifted it out carefully and dusted the top off with one hand.

“Do you think we should open it?” he asked.

“I think it might be best to confirm that Idas’ jewels are still inside,” Pythagoras replied. “Although I do not believe it has been tampered with, it would do us no good to get back to Atlantis and discover the contents had been stolen. I, for one, would like to get paid for this.”

Jason nodded and carefully lifted the lid. Inside, nestled on a bed of what seemed to be silk, were several glowing jewels. They were stunning.

“Defiler!”

The strident voice that rang out across the chamber made both young men jump, the lid of the box in Jason’s hands falling shut with an audibly snap.

“You dare to break our most sacred laws?” the voice called out again.

Pythagoras swallowed hard and turned to face whoever it was who was there, aware that at his side Jason was doing the same.

As they turned, though, something incredible began to happen: the building began to reform itself. The broken pillars rose up again; the missing and cracked paving mended itself; the roof reappeared, plunging the chamber into darkness; and great braziers and lanterns appeared and relit themselves. At the end of the chamber, the furthest point away from the doorway (which now had a very solid looking door filling it) a great statue of a woman rose up on an enormous pedestal, providing a focal point for the room. At the foot of the pedestal, the man who had spoken was standing. He was clad in the robes of a High Priest and was flanked on either side by other priests. He was scowling and pointing at a young man in front of him, held between two guards.

Both Pythagoras and Jason stared, mouths hanging open in shock. They exchanged another look.

“What’s going on?” Jason murmured.

“I do not know,” Pythagoras replied, wide eyed.

“You stand accused of defiling this sacred place,” the High Priest said to the young man before him.

The guards holding the young man forced him to his knees. He was barely more than a boy; thin faced and with straight mud brown hair. The green tunic he wore was torn at the neck as though it had been pulled too hard; evidence, perhaps, of a struggle.

“I am innocent,” the young man protested. “I have done nothing wrong.”

“That is for the Gods to judge,” the priest intoned.

The young man struggled against his captors.

“Why are you doing this?” he demanded. “What have I ever done to you?”

A sword at his throat briefly silenced him

“You have attempted to take what belongs to Hera and threatened her servants in her temple,” the priest sneered. “You attacked one of the priests and stole the casket from the sanctuary. You are guilty. There can be no other verdict.”

“I know how it must have looked,” the young man said desperately, “but I swear I did nothing wrong. You know me. I have served both Hera and the King faithfully. Why would I have done this?”

“I do not pretend to know the mind of a criminal,” the priest growled. “You were found leaning over Alcaeos. There can be no doubt as to your guilt.”

“I did not harm the priest. I will swear it on anything you like. I found him lying on the ground. I was trying to help him. I swear I was. You cannot think I meant him harm! Please… _please._ Ask him… ask him who attacked him. He will tell you it was not me!”

The boy’s voice was growing evermore desperate. Beside him, Pythagoras felt Jason stirring and turned his head to see his friend carefully placing the casket he still held on the ground. The mathematician placed a restraining hand gently on the young hero’s arm. Pythagoras still didn’t understand what was happening and it would be better that their presence went undetected for now until things were clearer.

“Alcaeos has not awoken and it seems unlikely that he will,” the High Priest hissed. “And if he does, the physician who examined him believes his wits will be permanently addled. You may as well have killed him.”

“I didn’t,” the boy said, trying to surge forwards towards the priest.

One of the guards cuffed him hard across the face, throwing him backwards to the ground, and brought the tip of his sword up to rest in the hollow of the boy’s throat; a threat against any further attempts at movement. The boy swallowed hard.

“Please,” he begged. “I have done nothing wrong!”

The High Priest scoffed.

“Nothing?” he said incredulously. “You have stolen the jewels intended for Hera’s crown,” he gestured towards the vast statue, “and given as an offering by the King himself. Not content with such sacrilege, you have attacked and all but killed one of Hera’s priests in this sacred place. Your life is forfeit. Tonight, you will be purified. Tomorrow, when the moon is at its height, you will be taken from this place and executed.” He turned his head to look at one of the lower priests flanking him. “Send word to Cynus. Inform the King of what has happened here. Tell him we are attempting to find where the jewels have been hidden and ask for his help in obtaining that information.” He turned back to the boy. “The King has men who are skilled in such matters,” he almost purred. “You will confess everything before your purification.” He looked at the priest he had been instructing before. “Tell His Majesty that the defiler will be executed tomorrow night and that we crave his presence for the execution. Now go!”

From across the room, Jason and Pythagoras saw the lesser priest bow and hurry out. The guards began to drag the struggling young man away; fighting against his captivity all the way.

“This is unfair,” Jason muttered under his breath. “They have no evidence.”

“His accuser is a High Priest,” Pythagoras replied. “They need no further evidence than that. He speaks for the Gods. If he says the boy is guilty, then he is guilty in the eyes of both the Gods and the law.”

“But what if they’ve got it wrong?” Jason demanded. “What if he really was just trying to help the priest who had been attacked? And I am pretty sure he doesn’t have the missing jewels… because I am pretty sure that _we_ do.” He rested one hand on the casket by his knee.

“The Gods do not make mistakes,” Pythagoras answered sharply.

“Leaving religion out of it for a moment, because I do not think we are going to agree on that one,” Jason said. “The Gods may not make mistakes, but men do… and the High Priest is just a man when all is said and done.”

“He is the mouthpiece for the Gods,” Pythagoras insisted. “It is his job to interpret their will. Particularly the Goddess he is devoted to.”

“But he doesn’t speak directly to them, does he?” Jason argued. “He doesn’t have a special way of communicating with Hera… Because in Atlantis, that’s what the Oracle is for isn’t it? To receive messages from the Gods. So, what if he’s got it wrong? What if the boy is innocent?”

“Jason, what you are saying is heresy!” Pythagoras responded.

“No, what I am saying is right and you know it,” Jason retorted. “I’m not going to let this happen.”

Before Pythagoras could move, Jason had shaken off his hand and sprinted across the floor of the chamber.

“Jason!” Pythagoras called urgently after him, preparing to follow his friend. He couldn’t leave Jason to race headfirst into trouble without support after all.

Jason either didn’t hear or ignored him (Pythagoras was inclined to think the latter since he knew his friend’s hearing was extremely sharp). He darted over to the guards holding the young man.

“Hey,” he said urgently. “Leave him alone!”

Pythagoras braced himself for the inevitable explosion. The High Priest would not be likely to take Jason’s interference lightly. This could easily end up with the two of them being arrested too.

It was a surprise, therefore, when no-one reacted. The guards continued to drag their prisoner slowly towards the door while the priests continued to watch them, the High Priest with his hands raised in prayer, a litany of praises for Hera spilling from his lips.

Jason shot Pythagoras a confused look.

“Stop!” he tried again.

There was still no reaction from the men he was trying to talk to.

A strange suspicion began to dawn in Pythagoras’ mind. He moved over to the group of priests in front of the great statue. Standing directly in front of one of them, he waved his hand in front of the man’s eyes. The priest gave no indication that he knew the young genius was there.

Pythagoras turned towards Jason.

“I do not believe they can see or hear us,” he proclaimed.

“What _is_ this place?” Jason demanded.

“I do not know,” Pythagoras replied. “But I think we should leave it as quickly as we can.”

“I still cannot let them do this,” Jason said with determination.

He moved even closer to the guards and reached out to grab the arm of the nearest one. Before his fingers touched, however, there was a flash of light and he was thrown back across the room into a pillar, his head hitting the stone paving where he landed with a sickening crack.

The last thing he heard before blackness engulfed him, was Pythagoras desperately calling out his name.

 


	2. Shadows of the Past

 

Hercules was having a good day. Last night had passed easily enough; no-one had even come near the warehouse he had been guarding for Idas. Not that anyone would have dared, Hercules thought to himself. Even the thieves of Atlantis knew that you didn’t cross Hercules; he had watched that workshop like a bat!

Now, with his two housemates away completing the other half of the job he had so skilfully arranged for them all, he had some free time to himself. He made his way purposefully through the streets, bathed in the light of the afternoon sun, towards _The Tipsy Goddess_ , intending to have a flagon or two – and perhaps even a pie – smiling to himself and greeting acquaintances as he went.

The interior of the tavern was cool and dimly lit. Hercules’ smile grew wider. He had spent many happy hours here over the years. He bought himself a flagon of wine, wandered over to a free table and sat down, ready to wile away a pleasant hour or two.

“Hercules!”

The booming voice made Hercules look up, smile becoming a beam as he saw an old friend hailing him.

“Clytius,” he replied, standing up and reaching out to clasp the newcomer’s hand. “It is good to see you, old friend. It has been a while.”

“Too long,” his friend confirmed. “Now tell me, what have you been up to?”

“Oh, you know,” Hercules answered. “The usual… Let me buy you a drink and we can talk.”

“ _You_ are going to buy _me_ a drink?” Clytius laughed, sitting down. “Have you inherited some money then? Or have the Gods been good to you and you have won at dice?”

“Neither,” Hercules replied with good humour. “This is some money that I have borrowed from a friend.”

Clytius barked a laugh and clapped Hercules on the shoulder.

“And does Pythagoras know that you have borrowed it?” he asked.

“I haven’t stolen it if that’s what you’re implying,” Hercules protested mildly. “I’m going to replace it as soon as I get paid… I found some good honest work for the three of us.”

“Oh?” Clytius replied. “What sort of work?”

“The boys are off retrieving some goods that Idas the merchant was forced to leave behind on a journey, and I am guarding the rest of his goods,” Hercules answered.

“Idas?” Clytius snorted. “You are working for that cheat and liar? I hope you got the money in advance. The word on the street is that Idas doesn’t pay his bills.”

“Really?” Hercules said with a frown, his good mood souring. “Thank you. I’ll make sure to get our money from him as soon as may be.”

“Well,” Clytius replied, “I will not stand by and let a friend be cheated if I can help it. Tell me, what exactly did Idas employ you for?”

“I told you, he was returning from Pathmos and was forced to hide part of his cargo – a casket of jewels. Pythagoras and Jason have gone to fetch it while I have the more difficult job of protecting Idas’ workshop. He told me he has a commission from the Palace so the jewels he has at the moment are top quality; very attractive to the criminal element,” Hercules answered.

“Top quality jewels from Pathmos? A commission from the Palace? Hercules, my old friend, Idas has spun you a story,” Clytius said seriously. “Idas is a low-class trinket pedlar. He has cheated so many of his fellow merchants that now none of the jewel traders will deal with him. He has neither the money nor the means to trade outside the city and has not left Atlantis in at least a year. He certainly has not visited Pathmos.”

“But what possible reason could he have to lie to me?” Hercules asked incredulously.

It wasn’t that he didn’t believe Clytius (they had been drinking companions for too many years and had never been less than honest with one another, and, working as he did in the artisan district of Atlantis, Clytius was far better placed to know all the gossip about the city’s merchants) but he simply could not see why Idas would have come up with this story.

“To gain something that was not his in the first place,” Clytius said, his eyes suddenly sharp and intent. “There are many rumours in the city about Idas. For years now, he has been claiming to know the location of some lost jewels. Apparently, they are some of the finest you would ever see. There is only one problem. The jewels were given as an offering to Hera centuries ago and stolen or misplaced somehow. Anyhow, they still belong to the Goddess and anyone seeking to find them risks being cursed. Idas has been trying to find someone brave or foolhardy enough to risk that curse to fetch them for him for years now. I am told that the jewels that he seeks are in a valley not far from the ruined palace at Cynus… but, Hercules, if your friends have gone there then you must be prepared to mourn. I am told that no-one has ever returned from that accursed place.”

 

* * *

 

Jason woke up slowly, eyelids fluttering before coming open. For a moment he lay staring at the ceiling in confusion. That did not look like the ceiling above his bed and he couldn’t quite work out where he was. Then a throbbing headache asserted itself and he restrained the urge to whimper, even as he brought his hand up to feel the back of his head – where the biting pain seemed to be coming from. There was, he noted groggily, a sizeable lump there.

“I really rather you did not prod that,” Pythagoras’ voice came from somewhere to Jason’s right. “The bleeding has stopped, and I would rather you did not set it off again.”

“Wha…?” Jason said, still not fully awake and slurring his speech a little. “Bleedin…?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose and rubbed at his eyes in an attempt to wake up properly, before rolling carefully onto his right side and fully opening his eyes.

Pythagoras was sitting nearby, hugging his knees. It made him look anxious and defenceless.

“Yes,” he replied. “I am afraid you hit your head quite hard.” A haunted look came across his eyes. “For a moment I was very much afraid of what the damage might be.”

“Sorry,” Jason muttered.

“Never mind,” Pythagoras said with false brightness. “You are clearly not as seriously harmed as I had feared at first.”

Jason pushed himself up and sat, hand coming automatically to cup the back of his own head again and eyes slamming shut as a wave of dizziness rocked him; nausea teasing his stomach unpleasantly. As the dizziness and nausea faded, he dropped his hand down to rub the back of his neck and opened his eyes again, letting his gaze drift around the room.

They seemed to be in some sort of small store room – most decidedly not the large open hall that was the last place Jason remembered being. He looked at Pythagoras quizzically.

“How did we get here? And for that matter, where _is_ here?” he asked.

Pythagoras scrambled across the floor and knelt in front of him.

“Look at my hand and follow the finger with your eyes,” he said raising his hand to the level of Jason’s eyes and moving his finger back and forth in front of his friend’s face.

“Pythagoras…” Jason began.

“I will answer all your questions in good time,” Pythagoras said quickly, “but for my sake, please just do as I ask now? I wish to make sure that you are as well as possible.”

Jason sighed but acquiesced to Pythagoras’ instructions. Deep down he knew how important a concussion check could be.

“How many fingers am I holding up?” Pythagoras asked.

“Two,” Jason answered quickly.

“And now?”

“Four… where are we? And what happened?”

Pythagoras sighed and sat back on his heels.

“Something – and I do not know what – threw you back into that pillar,” he said. “After you were knocked out, I felt the need to get us to somewhere safe. I know it seemed that no-one could see or hear us, but I did not wish to tempt fate. I found this storeroom just off the main temple chamber and dragged you in here. You were not unconscious for all that long to be honest. I had only just got you settled when you began to come around.” He glanced around the room. “As there is only one door in and out, I believe we should be safe enough here whatever happens.”

He looked awkward, as though he was hiding something.

“What aren’t you telling me?” Jason asked. “Something is worrying you. What is it?”

Pythagoras swallowed.

“Just before you woke up,” he began, “I attempted to take some food off the shelf over there.” He indicated a shelf on the other side of the tiny room. “As we had originally thought to be home by nightfall tonight, we do not have many supplies with us and I wished to replenish them. We do not know what the situation here truly is after all, and I cannot think that we will be home tonight as planned.”

“That was good thinking,” Jason agreed.

“The problem is that I did not manage to take a single item,” Pythagoras replied. “I do not know what sort of magic has apparently restored this building, or what precisely is going on, but my hand passed right through.”

Jason blinked.

“Sorry?” he said. “I don’t understand.”

“Watch,” Pythagoras said.

He stood up and moved over to the nearest shelf. Looking intently at Jason, he swallowed and went to take a jar off the shelf. His hand passed right through.

“It seems that we can neither be seen nor heard, and that likewise we cannot touch anything here,” he said softly. “We have limited supplies and no means of replenishing them as long as we stay here.”

“Then we’d better try to leave,” Jason said. “There’s nothing that says we won’t be able to do that now is there.”

“No,” Pythagoras acknowledged. “Although, I am worried that leaving will not be so easy. Something has happened since we uncovered that casket and I do not understand what that something is.”

“Well we won’t know if we don’t try,” Jason pointed out.

He carefully stood up, holding onto the wall as dizziness briefly rocked him once again.

“Are you alright?” Pythagoras asked.

“Aside from a pounding headache? Yeah, I think so.”

“Very well… Can I suggest that we explore a little before we attempt to leave the building?” Pythagoras ventured. “It may benefit us to try to learn exactly what we are facing.”

“That’s actually probably a very good plan,” Jason replied. “Let’s go.”

He made his way over to the door of the storeroom and peered cautiously around it into the main chamber. No-one was nearby.

“The coast’s clear,” he said, stepping out into the massive chamber beyond.

Pythagoras offered him a half smile as he stepped out of the room to join him.

It was eerie to see a temple so silent and still, Jason decided as they explored the main chamber and the small rooms off it. He had been in the Temple of Poseidon in Atlantis when it was almost deserted before now (when the only people there was himself and Ariadne or Melas, or whoever he had gone there to see) and yet it hadn’t felt as desolate and abandoned as this.

They spoke in hushed tones; it felt wrong to speak any louder and break the stillness.

Finally, they had explored everywhere they could and learned nothing useful. Without needing to talk about it (the bond they had shared almost from the day they had met meant they were often in synch with one another’s thoughts without the need for speech), the two young men made their way to the main doors and stopped.

Jason looked at Pythagoras and swallowed hard.

“Well,” he said, “I guess there’s only one way to find out whether we can leave or not.”

He turned and put his hands to the doors, half expecting to be thrown backwards again and bracing himself for it. It was a distinct surprise when the doors yielded easily; opening wide with a gentle tug. Jason exchanged a startled look with Pythagoras, before the two of them stepped through.

Outside the doors, a cold fog had closed in on the building. It was hard to see much further than the bottom of the steps. Jason squinted as he looked down, trying to see just a little bit further.

“I do not like this,” Pythagoras murmured. “The causeway we crossed to get here was only wide enough for a cart. In this fog it would be all too easy to miss our footing and step off into the lake… and all too difficult to find our way back to land if we did.”

“I know,” Jason replied, “but it’s our only way out of here. This fog… there was no sign of it when we came in.”

“You think it is not a natural occurrence?”

“I don’t know what to think,” Jason admitted. “I cannot help feeling that _something_ is trying to trap us here…” He squinted at the fog again, grimacing as his head throbbed. “The causeway was fairly straight, right?”

“Yes,” Pythagoras replied.

“Okay, so if we’re careful we should be able to work out where the edges are,” Jason said decisively. “Then it’s only a matter of walking in a straight line.”

“Maybe,” Pythagoras answered dubiously. “But how do you plan on working out where the edges are?”

Jason glanced around himself for inspiration.

“Like this,” he said, moving to one side and grabbing a few pebbles he could see.

He walked down the steps to the bottom and peered into the mists. If he squinted, he thought he could see the edges of the causeway looming out of the fog. To confirm his theory, he gently threw a pebble a little to one side. The faint splosh in made told him that it had gone in the lake. He threw a few more, bringing them a little closer each time until one of them landed on solid ground. Then he repeated the procedure on the other side. He turned to Pythagoras, who was standing slightly behind him.

“Well I guess we know where the edges are now,” he said.

“Indeed,” Pythagoras agreed. He shivered. “Is it just me or is the fog growing thicker?”

“I’m not sure,” Jason answered. “I don’t think there is any point in hanging around though.”

“No,” Pythagoras replied. “You are right. Let us go.”

They started to cross the causeway, only speaking to warn each other about possible hazards to footing. Pythagoras had been right; the further they moved away from the temple, the thicker the fog became until they couldn’t even see one another. The path seemed to become more and more treacherous as the visibility decreased; neither of them knew how many times they tripped and fell, picking up little cuts, bruises and scrapes to palms and knees. They were both shivering by now, freezing cold fog chilling them and soaking their clothes and hair.

“Jason, this is impossible,” Pythagoras called from somewhere to Jason’s left. “I cannot see my hand in front of my face. If we continue, I fear one of us will end up in the lake and be lost forever.”

“And if we don’t, we may never get out of here,” Jason argued. “Our provisions won’t last for more than a few days, even if we ration them.”

He heard Pythagoras sigh.

“You are right,” the mathematician admitted. “We will go on.”

As he said it though, an unearthly wailing scream came from somewhere in the fog.

“What was that?” Jason asked urgently.

“I do not know,” Pythagoras replied equally anxiously. “I have never heard a sound like it and have never read of anything that could make such a noise.”

Jason gulped.

“Maybe we should have thought about this and tied ourselves together,” he said. “That way, if one of us fell into the water, the other one could pull them out.”

“Or been pulled in too,” Pythagoras pointed out reasonably. “And, anyway, we have not got any rope with us, so we have no means for tying ourselves together.”

“I just don’t like not being able to see you,” Jason admitted.

“I am equally uncomfortable,” Pythagoras said. “Perhaps if we were to hold onto each other though, it might have the same effect as tying ourselves together.”

“Fine,” Jason replied. “If you step to your right and I step to my left, we should find each other.”

They stumbled on, the thick fog making them all but blind, hanging on tightly to each other. Suddenly the wailing scream came again, closer now.

“Whatever that is I do not think I wish to meet it,” Pythagoras remarked.

“No,” Jason agreed. “Come on. We need to move faster.”

Shapes reared up out of the fog ahead of them; dark shadows that they couldn’t make out. One of the shapes swooped towards the two young men.

Jason heard Pythagoras give a strangled gasp as he was wrenched away from the young hero.

“Pythagoras!” he called urgently, turning towards where he believed his friend to have been.

From somewhere in the mist, Jason could hear the sound of a desperate struggle. He stepped towards it, intent on helping Pythagoras. All of a sudden, a searing, burning pain slashed across his thigh. Jason fell, crying out as he did. He pushed himself to his feet and staggered towards the noise, blindly grabbing for his friend. His hands hit a solid arm, raised at throat height and he heard a gurgling as though something was being strangled. Jason clawed at the arm, only to be flung away by something with almost inhuman strength. He scrambled to his feet again and reached blindly for the arm. What he encountered, though, was the soft fabric of the loose open garment Pythagoras sometimes wore over his tunic. He caught hold of his friend and pulled him back, away from whatever the creature was that was attacking them.

They fell in a heap on the causeway. Jason could hear Pythagoras wheezing, gasping for air. He dragged himself to his knees, feeling blood pouring down his thigh, and reached out to feel for the mathematician.

“Pythagoras,” he called urgently.

“I… am… alright,” Pythagoras wheezed, his voice hoarse.

“No, you are not,” Jason replied. “You are hurt.”

“I… will… admit… that I… have felt… better,” Pythagoras gasped.

“We have to go back,” Jason said. “You are struggling to breathe, and I have done something to my leg. It’s bleeding. I do not think either one of us is going to be able to go on right now.”

He felt Pythagoras nod against him.

“Agreed,” Pythagoras replied, still breathless and hoarse. “But… I do not know which direction that is.”

Jason scrabbled on the ground until he found a couple of pebbles. He threw one to the right and was rewarded by a splash. Then he threw a second one to the left. The splash was much closer.

“We need to move a little to the right and then keep going straight on,” he said. “We’ll either reach the shore or end up back at the temple that way.”

He forced himself to his feet and reached out to pull his friend up too. It wasn’t easy since he couldn’t actually see Pythagoras and since his leg felt like it would give way at any moment.

Once they were both upright, Jason went to take a step forwards but lurched sideways into Pythagoras, crying out as his leg refused to hold his weight properly. Pythagoras wrapped his arms around him almost instinctively.

Together they started to make their stumbling way along the causeway; half staggering along. As they walked, they gradually became aware that the fog was thinning until they could see each other – first as shapes in the gloom and then properly.

Finally, the temple loomed massively out of the mist and they stumbled up the stairs; Jason leaning ever more heavily on Pythagoras as his leg gave way more and more. As they staggered back through the door to the temple, they both stopped and stared open-mouthed.

The chamber they had left deserted just a short time earlier was now teeming with people. Yet it looked different from how it had appeared earlier. The great statue of Hera was now only half built; the carving not yet fully complete and the golden crown that had surmounted it not yet in place. Workmen bustled around the scaffolding surrounding it and priestesses and acolytes stood receiving offerings.

The young man in the green tunic, who they had last seen being dragged away by guards, hurried across the floor towards the High Priest.

“You bring word from the King, Sebastos?” the High Priest intoned.

“Yes, My Lord,” Sebastos answered, proffering a small roll of parchment.

The High Priest took it, read the contents and looked up in surprise at the young man.

“Do you know what is written here?” he asked.

“No,” Sebastos replied. “I was merely entrusted with the duty of delivering it safely to you.”

“And you have performed that duty well.” The priest smiled, his stern face softening. “It is good news. The King writes that he means to honour the Goddess by providing fine jewels to adorn the crown of her statue. Come with me, I must speak with the sculptor and then I may have a message for you to take back to Cynus.”

He hurried across the floor with the young man in his wake.

Jason turned to share a baffled look with Pythagoras.

“What is going on?” he asked in confusion. “I thought… well… I don’t understand at all.”

“I think I am beginning to understand,” Pythagoras replied slowly.

His voice still sounded painfully hoarse and Jason winced at the deep scratches (almost gashes) and bruising that was developing around his throat; evidence that someone or something had attempted to strangle him.

“I suspect that what we are seeing is the past,” the young genius went on. “We are seeing scenes from the history of this temple… but those scenes are jumping about in time a little. So, what we see now actually took place before what we saw earlier.”

“Are you serious?” Jason demanded incredulously.

“Unfortunately so,” Pythagoras answered. “It would explain why we cannot be seen or speak to anyone… and why we could not take the food earlier… It is because it is not really here – it is simply a shadow of the past. It would also explain why a ruined building managed to rebuild itself in a matter of moments.”

As he spoke, they began to cross the temple floor to return to the little storeroom Pythagoras had found earlier. By now Jason was dragging his injured leg, dripping blood behind him and leaning heavily on his friend’s shoulder.

“We can discuss this later,” Pythagoras said, eyeing the blood trail seriously. “You are losing more blood than I am comfortable with and I would like to do something about that… and I must admit that I believe that I need to rest too.”

Once they were back in the room, Pythagoras helped Jason lower himself to the floor, leaning against a wall, and dropped down to sit beside him, letting his head drop back until it was resting against the wall too.

“Whatever it was that attacked us out in the fog… that was not simply a shadow of the past,” Jason murmured.

“No,” Pythagoras replied, forcing himself to sit up and starting to root through his bag for the few medical supplies he had shoved in there. “I suspect it may have been a vengeful spirit.”

He carefully peeled back the ragged edges of the tear in Jason’s trousers to look at the wound below and bit his lip at what he saw; it was a far deeper wound than he had wanted to see, going deep into the muscle of his friend’s thigh.

“I think I am going to need to stitch that,” he said softly.

Jason grimaced.

“Do you have to?” he asked.

“I am afraid so,” Pythagoras answered. “I have a few herbs that I can use to form a poultice that will help speed up the healing process but the wound itself is too deep for me to do anything other than stitch it. If I do not, then I fear you will continue to lose blood and I am not willing to risk the consequences of that.”

Jason sighed and nodded, turning his face away as Pythagoras threaded a needle.

“I will need you to hold as still as you can for me,” he said gently. “I am afraid that this will hurt… I do not have the means of numbing the skin. If we were at home, there would be salves I could use to prevent you from feeling this, but I do not have them with me.”

“Alright,” Jason said shortly, trying to prepare himself as best he could.

By the time Pythagoras was finished, he was afraid his friend had lost consciousness; after a small and very un-Jason-like whimper, his dark-haired friend had gone very still and very quiet, his head dropped forwards. As Pythagoras cut the end of the thread and began to prepare a poultice to slather on the ugly wound though, Jason spoke – his voice so quiet that Pythagoras almost didn’t hear him.

“Is it over?” he asked.

“Almost,” Pythagoras answered gently. “I have finished the stitching and just need to put a poultice on and bind the wound. It will just be a few more moments and then I would suggest you should rest.”

“What about you?” Jason asked, his voice still quiet and strained; laced with pain. “You were hurt too.”

“I am not so badly off,” Pythagoras said.

“Pythagoras, you sound awful and your throat looks painful,” Jason pointed out. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“It does hurt a little,” Pythagoras admitted.

He spotted the resolute expression in Jason’s eyes and knew that his friend was going to insist on helping him too.

“There is a salve that I can make to help with the bruises,” he said. “As I cannot see them myself, I would ask you to help me to apply it.”

Jason nodded.

“I can do that,” he said, sounding stronger now that the sharp pain that stitching his wound had caused was fading to a dull ache. “Is there anything else?”

“It is a little painful to swallow,” Pythagoras admitted. “We still have some wine in a skin. There are herbs I can add to it that will help to ease the pain.” He eyed his friend speculatively. “Actually, that might help both of us,” he added.

Once he had made the salve he had been talking about, he handed it to Jason. With deep concentration, Jason stroked it as gently as he could along the column of his friend’s throat, trying not to cause Pythagoras any additional pain and knowing that his hands were roughened through regular sword use. After he finished with Pythagoras’ throat, he dipped his thumb back into the salve and stroked it along the length of Pythagoras’ left cheekbone which was swollen and bruised.

“Thank you,” the young mathematician said softly.

“Don’t be daft,” Jason said with a slight smile. “It’s what friends are for. We look after each other, remember?”

Pythagoras shivered. He glanced across at Jason and noted the faint tremors running through his friend’s body – although he wasn’t certain whether that was because Jason was cold or because of a mixture of pain, blood loss and slight shock, or perhaps a combination of both.

“I wish there was some way we could light a fire to get warm,” he said. “I confess that I am chilled through… but I fear an attempt to take wood from the temple supply would meet with no more success than my attempt to obtain food earlier. I suspect that we simply will not be able to touch anything that belongs in the past – it is not really here in the same way that the people we are seeing are not really here.”

“Mmm,” Jason hummed quietly in response. “At least we have blankets though.”

He looked from Pythagoras’ wet clothing to his own.

“We should probably both get out of these clothes and wrap up in the blankets until they’ve dried,” he advised. “I don’t think either of us will manage to get warm while we’re still wet.”

“You are right,” Pythagoras agreed. “I should have thought of that myself.”

In what seemed a remarkably quick time they were settled, wrapped up in the blankets they usually slept on and under on a journey, with their clothes laid out to dry as best they could on the floor.

As warmth returned, Jason found himself growing slightly drowsy. He eased himself into a more comfortable position and looked at Pythagoras speculatively.

“You really think what’s out there are images from the past?” he asked, nodding vaguely at the door.

“I do,” Pythagoras confirmed. “It is the only explanation that I can come up with that fits all the facts.”

“But how?” Jason asked.

“I suspect that Hera cursed the casket of jewels when it was stolen,” Pythagoras answered. “When we lifted it out of the ground, we inadvertently triggered that curse. To take an offering meant for the Gods is sacrilege… as well you should know.”

Jason groaned, remembering his time as a dog.

“Just what I need!” he said grumpily. “To be cursed by _another_ Goddess!” He sighed.  “Alright… what do we do about it? I think it is pretty obvious from our last attempt to leave that we are not going to be able to until we lift this curse – that fog was definitely not natural. So how do we do it?”

“I am not sure,” Pythagoras conceded. “I suspect that Hera will not let us go until she gets her jewels back.”

“But we did not know that they were hers and we did not actually take them,” Jason said. “I put the box back at the base of the pillar where we found it.”

“I do not think it matters whether we knew the jewels belonged to Hera or not. I fear they were cursed when they were first stolen,” Pythagoras replied. “And I do not think simply putting them back where we found them was what the Goddess wants… She will want them to be placed as they were originally intended – in her crown.”

“But the statue no longer exists,” Jason protested.

“I know,” Pythagoras acknowledged. “I fear that to break the curse in the present, we will have to change the past.”

“How is that possible?” Jason demanded. “The past has already happened. Besides, although we can see what happened, we can’t actually interact with anything… so how can we get the jewels back to the Goddess?”

As he spoke, it occurred to him that ever since he had arrived in Atlantis he had, in a way, been changing the past (although he still wasn’t sure if this _was_ actually the past or another world as the Oracle had implied at their first meeting). This was different though. Rather than having actually travelled into the past, they seemed to be stuck in some sort of time loop (for want of a better word) which allowed them to observe but not actually do anything.

“I confess that I do not know,” Pythagoras admitted. “That is as far as my speculation has taken me… and I am a little too worn from everything that has happened so far today to think of a plan.” He sighed. “What happened out on the causeway was traumatic and I suspect we would both benefit from rest as a result. As I said earlier, this storeroom seems relatively safe for now and we are at least out of the elements here. We should rest while we can… after all, we do not know what will happen in the hours to come.”

“You are probably right,” Jason admitted. “I know it must still be daytime but I am ridiculously tired…”

“That will be a combination of your earlier head injury and blood loss from _that_ ,” Pythagoras said, looking pointedly at the bandage he had wound around his friend’s thigh.

He eased himself down to lie with his head on his bag and was gratified to see Jason following suit.

“I am sure that we will be able to think of something when we are both a little less tired,” he murmured.

Jason didn’t answer, and within a few minutes the only sounds to be heard within the room were soft snores.

 

* * *

 

By the time Hercules had managed to track Idas down it had been late afternoon. He had gone to find the merchant to find out more about the valley he had told Hercules about and where Jason and Pythagoras had been sent. Finding the merchant had inevitably delayed his departure to look for his two younger friends, but Hercules had felt it would be worth it to get an exact location: the boys would have had to spend time looking for the valley but (hopefully) he could go straight there.

What he had learned from Idas had not been reassuring and Hercules promised himself grimly as he strode purposefully towards the Telapius Gate that he would come back and make the merchant pay if either one of his friends was harmed in any way.

The sun had dropped beyond the horizon while the burly wrestler had been talking with Idas and night had fallen as he had been collecting his bag and sword from home. Hercules didn’t relish the thought of a journey through the mountains at night – the hours past sundown were always more treacherous for a traveller; particularly one journeying alone. All too often there were thieves lurking in the darkness, ready to pray on the unwary or the ill prepared. Still, if his friends needed him, Hercules would be there.

“You there, stop!” The instruction was shouted authoritatively from somewhere behind the burly wrestler.

Hercules came to a halt, resisting the urge to swear loudly, even as he finally noticed just how deserted the streets were.

“Me?” he asked as inoffensively as possible, turning around.

There was a patrol of guards, led by a remarkably short man, puffing out his chest with his own importance. Hercules resisted the urge to swear again; it seemed the patrol leader had the sort of obnoxious and aggressive character that was sometimes seen with little men.

“Yes, you,” the patrol leader sneered. “What are you doing here? Don’t you know there’s a curfew?”

Hercules stared at him blankly for a moment. As a matter of fact, with everything he had learned from Clytius and in his hurry to speak with Idas and then get on the road after his friends, he had completely forgotten about the curfew tonight.

“Yes… no… sorry… I… erm… I was in the tavern,” Hercules replied. “I just had one or two teensy little drinks with my friends,” he added, deliberately slurring his speech and swaying on his feet as though he were drunk. “I’m goin’ home now though… iss that way.” He pointed to his left. “Or maybe that way.” He pointed straight ahead, nearly poking the patrol leader in the eye. “Iss Norf of the Cano… Cano… Canopic Way. Thass where it is.”

He belched in the soldier’s face. He had eaten garlic earlier and knew the smell would be interesting to say the least.

The short man waved a hand in front of his face, his features twisted into a disgusted expression.

“Go home,” he growled, pointing at Hercules with one finger, “and don’t let me see you around here again. If I see you here again I will arrest you for breaking the curfew and causing a public nuisance.”

“Fank you very much… you’re a whossaname… a thingummy… you’re a good sort,” Hercules slurred.

He went to stumble off.

“Wait!” the patrol leader said sharply. “You are South of the Canopic Way right now,” he added with a glower at Hercules. “You need to go that way.” He pointed behind him.

Not wanting to tempt fate and knowing that the eyes of the patrol would be on him, Hercules staggered off in the direction the soldier had pointed, making sure to reel from side to side every so often to enhance the impression that he was blind drunk.

Once he was out of sight around a corner, he withdrew into the mouth of an alleyway and stopped to consider his options.

The curfew tonight meant that the gates would not be opened for anyone. He could, of course, return home and follow after his friends first thing in the morning, but he wasn’t willing to wait that long; the boys might need him and he would never forgive himself if something happened because he had delayed his departure due to the curfew.

There was another option though; one which was much more dangerous (especially if the guards got wind of what he was doing and released the hunting lions) but might ultimately be successful. All he would need was some rope and a little luck.

Really, in Hercules’ mind there was no choice. Moving quickly now, he raced back to the house and grabbed the looped rope from the place he had left it. Throwing it over his shoulder, he hurried back into the street below. Keeping to the shadows and darting from doorway to doorway to avoid encountering any more guards, he made his way to the bottom of the steps that led to the city wall.

This was the tricky bit. Both the stairs and the narrow walkway at the top of the wall were uncomfortably exposed. All it would take was one observant guard (a rarity in Atlantis but knowing Hercules’ luck he would encounter one) and he would be caught. He tied the rope around one of the great stone sections of the parapet, muttered a prayer to the Gods and swung himself out onto the outside face of the wall.

As it turned out, descending the rope was easier than he had expected. He had chosen a particularly badly lit section and despite his fears no cry went up from the city to tell him that he had been spotted. Once Hercules was at the base of the wall, he scurried as fast as he could into the trees and hid there, holding his breath, until he was certain that he had not been seen or followed.

Grimly, he turned his back on Atlantis, hoisted his bag and his sword a little higher and set off into the woods. His friends needed him, and he wasn’t going to let anything get between him and them now.

 

* * *

 

Jason stirred slowly and rolled over, with his eyes still closed. The room was very quiet and warm and the sweet, spicy scent of incense and herbs burning hung heavily in the air. He screwed his eyes a little tighter, still chasing the edge of peaceful sleep and wanting nothing more than to return to it. He was just a little too far awake to drop off though, and finally he let his eyes come slowly open.

Pythagoras was lying on his back, not far away, snoring softly in his sleep. Jason smiled gently at the sight, although the smile turned to a slight frown as he caught sight of the wounds around the gentle mathematician’s throat.

He thought about what Pythagoras had said before they had both dropped off to sleep: was it possible to change something that had happened in the past? In his former life before he had taken the sub down and ended up in Atlantis, Jason would have emphatically said no but he had seen too much in this world to completely discount the possibility; after all he would never have believed that the Minotaur existed, or that vengeful spirits could have hunted his friend, or that he himself would have spent time as what he still thought of as a werewolf (no matter that his friends called it a kynikos) either.

Jason slowly sat up, wincing as the stitches in his thigh pulled sharply reminding him that the injury was there (and was still hurting even if it did feel better than it had before he had gone to sleep), and took stock of the room once again.

It was impossible to tell what time of day (or indeed night) it was in here. There were no windows to the outside world to indicate how much time had passed. As far as he could recall from their brief exploration of the temple, the whole place was like that too. It niggled at Jason a little that he didn’t know how much time had passed since they had arrived here or how long they had slept for; had no way of knowing if it was still the same day or the next one. It almost felt as though time didn’t exist.

Moving as slowly and quietly as possible to try to avoid waking the still slumbering Pythagoras, he caught hold of his clothes and checked to see how dry they were. Feeling them, Jason shrugged slightly to himself. The cloth was still a little damp and cold but was wearable, so he pulled them on, grimacing as the wound in his thigh pulled painfully again and then wincing as he pulled his tunic over his head and his fingers brushed against the lump on the back of his head. He felt stiff and sore but if they were going to get out of here and back home to Atlantis, he didn’t have time to rest yet; couldn’t afford the time to feel sorry for himself.

He flinched as he slowly pushed himself to his feet, trying to keep as much weight as possible on his uninjured leg (at least at first) before gradually transferring his weight until it was evenly distributed. For a moment it felt like someone had set light to his thigh and he hissed, putting one hand against the wall to brace himself and dropping the other down to cover the injury lightly. As the pain faded back to a constant deep throb, Jason moved his hand away and at the bandage wrapped around his leg. There was no blood seeping through and he heaved a quiet sigh of relief; the stitches appeared to have held (which was good because he really didn’t fancy having to have them put in again – once was more than enough).

Pythagoras gave a soft snore and rolled onto his side. Jason smiled gently again and picked his way across the room, trying not to wake his friend up. He needed to find somewhere to relieve himself and there was no way he was going to do it in this little room.

Out in the main body of the temple, the scene seemed to have changed again. Sebastos, the young man who had apparently been arrested earlier, hurried across the floor of the temple, flanked by a couple of guards, a small (and very familiar) casket clutched under one arm. The High Priest was waiting at the base of the now nearly completed statue of Hera with a second priest standing at his shoulder. Sebastos hurried over to him and dropped to one knee, holding the casket out.

“My Lord,” he said respectfully. “His Majesty has entrusted me with delivering this to you. It contains the jewels he wishes to have set in Hera’s crown as an offering to the Goddess.”

“You have done your duty well Sebastos,” the High Priest replied. “I shall make sure that the King hears of it.”

He took the casket and opened it. The man at his shoulder gasped in wonder.

Jason’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. For an instant, as the box was opened, the second priest’s face had transformed into an expression of blatant longing; of covetousness. If he hadn’t been looking directly at the man’s face at the time, he would never have seen it – especially as the priest’s expression dropped quickly back into a look of bland subservience as the High Priest turned to him.

“Eryalus,” he said, “find Alcaeos and unlock the sanctuary. These offerings must be locked away until the craftsmen are ready to set them into Hera’s crown. I will send word to the King once they are prepared so that he might be here for the ceremony. Hera’s Son will have his own duties to perform after all.”

“At once,” the second priest murmured, hurrying away.

The scene flickered and the men disappeared, leaving Jason alone in the great chamber once more. He frowned, he hadn’t quite liked the expression on the second priest’s face. There had been _something_ in it that made him uneasy; something that he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

He shook himself and limped on across the room. If his memory served him right from their brief exploration of the building before they had made the disastrous attempt to leave, there was a narrow set of stairs leading from the left hand side of the main chamber which opened out into what appeared to be a latrine.

As he crossed the floor, though, the room seemed to darken around him; the braziers dying down to a dull glow and the lamps beginning to extinguish themselves. Jason paused, peering about himself. What was happening now?

A hooded figure darted from somewhere in the gloom behind the statue of Hera. The figure seemed to be peering furtively about himself, although his face was lost in the hood of his cloak. He turned to look at the statue. As he did, the hood of his cloak dropped back. It was the priest whose expression had made Jason uneasy a few minutes ago. His eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he spotted the tools apparently left by the craftsmen who had been working on the thing. The statue was now as Jason had first seen it; the carving was finished and the golden crown and other adornments set in place; all that was needed to complete it fully was for the jewels to be set into the crown.

“What are you doing here at this hour, Eryalus?” a sharp voice demanded. “You are supposed to be completing the rituals in the sanctuary this night.”

Eryalus turned towards the voice and smiled. It was not a pleasant smile.

The newcomer frowned. He was young and dressed in the chiton of a priest, with his head shaved.

Jason watched the scene with growing trepidation. The air almost crackled with tension between the two priests.

“Alcaeos,” Eryalus said with false pleasantness. “I had not thought to see you here.”

“You did not answer my question,” Alcaeos remarked suspiciously. “Why are you away from the sanctuary? Why are you wearing that cloak? And what are you trying to hide beneath it?”

He stepped forwards and reached out to take hold of Eryalus’ arm. As he did, Eryalus stepped back towards the statue, trying to keep out of reach. His cloak swung open revealing the small box of jewels tucked under his arm.

Alcaeos gasped.

“Those belong to Hera,” he exclaimed. “You have no reason even to be touching them. Take them back to the sanctuary at once!”

“And what good are jewels to a statue?” Eryalus demanded. “A block of marble has no need for adornments... No. They will be far more useful to _me_ than they would be to _her_.” He nodded at the statue.

“That is not for you to decide,” Alcaeos proclaimed, reaching out to grab the casket. “The gifts of the Goddess are not yours to take, thief! You will be cursed. You will bring the wrath of Hera down on all our heads. I cannot allow you to do this!”

“You will not stop me,” Eryalus declared. “We have been friends since we were boys. Our fathers were priests in this temple. We grew up together. I do not believe you will be able to raise a hand against me now.”

“It is because of our long years of friendship that I am doing this now,” Alcaeos retorted. “We have been like brothers… so I beg you, brother, do not do this thing. Return the jewels to the sanctuary where they belong. Turn aside from this path before it is too late.”

Eryalus smirked.

“Let me think,” he drawled. “No… I do not think so. I think I am going to take this little box and leave.”

“Then you leave me no choice,” Alcaeos replied. “I cannot allow you to leave with those jewels. I must return them to Hera.”

He lunged forwards and caught hold of the casket. For a moment, the two priests fought back and forth, each refusing to let go of the box. Alcaeos appeared to be the stronger of the two and gradually began to gain the upper hand, forcing Eryalus back step by step. Eryalus was tenacious, however; somehow managing to hold onto the casket.

Finally though, he tripped and fell backwards; the box flying out of his hands. Alcaeos stumbled back, pushed off balance, but managed to stay on his feet.

“I am sorry, Eryalus,” he said. “My duty is clear. I must return these jewels to the sanctuary and inform the High Priest of what has happened this night. I will pray that he will be lenient with you… I can only presume that you have been led astray by a malevolent spirit… for I know that you would never have done this thing in your right mind.”

He turned away, the box clutched tightly in his hands.

Eryalus’ face twisted in rage. He had fallen at the base of the statue and now grabbed a heavy maul from the pile of discarded tools. He pushed himself to his feet and rushed forwards, the maul held high in his raised hand, before bringing it down on the back of Alcaeos’ head. The blow hit Alcaeos full force and he dropped to the ground instantly, blood pouring from a ghastly looking wound. Eryalus dropped to his knees and smashed the maul into Alcaeos’ head twice more before rolling the other priest onto his back. Alcaeos barely seemed to be breathing.

“I am sorry, _old friend_ ,” he snarled, “but I could not allow you to interfere. These jewels are mine and neither you nor anyone else was going to take them from me.”

Jason watched, helpless to act. He knew, logically, that all this had happened a long time ago – that what he was seeing was merely a vision of the past – but it didn’t make it any easier; every fibre of his being wanted to stop Eryalus; to prevent the inevitable scene that he and Pythagoras had witnessed when they had first attempted to take the casket from its hiding place.

Eryalus pushed himself back to his feet and picked up the casket. He glanced around the dim chamber, eyes probing.

“Too risky to leave now,” he muttered to himself. “Better to hide the box for now and move it once all the fuss has died down.”

He looked back at the tools near the statue and then over to the base of a pillar where the flagstones appeared to have been laid recently. He smiled.

Moving swiftly, Eryalus grabbed a couple of tools and hurried over to the pillar he had been looking at. In just a few short moments he had levered up the flagstone, dug a shallow hole, which he placed the small casket in, and replaced both the earth and the flagstone.

“I will be back for you later,” he promised, standing up and replacing the tools where he had found them.

The main door to the temple began to open with a quiet creak. Eryalus looked towards them sharply and then scurried away into the dark recesses of the temple before he could be seen.

The boy, Sebastos, slipped in through the temple door, pushing it closed behind him, and began to pad across the floor towards the statue. Suddenly he froze, staring at Alcaeos still body, before rushing forwards and dropping to his knees beside the priest; seemingly oblivious to the fact that he was now kneeling in a puddle of the other man’s blood in his anxiousness to help.

It was clear from the way his hands fluttered across Alcaeos’ body that Sebastos didn’t really know what to do. His eyes roamed around until they spotted the discarded and bloodied maul and, without seeming to be aware of what he was doing, the young man reached out to touch it. He picked it up, his face a picture of horror as he stared at it.

“You there! Stop! What are you doing?”

The voice was harsh and loud. Jason turned to see where it was coming from.

A priest he had not seen before was striding across the temple floor, flanked by two guards (although where they had appeared from was anyone’s guess). As the group drew level with Jason, they were joined by Eryalus, now without his cloak and looking for all the world as though he had only just arrived. As he came near, his eyes narrowed with cunning.

“I have come from the sanctuary,” he said urgently. “I was completing the nightly rituals there when I was attacked from behind. While I lay stunned, someone stole the jewels the King has given as an offering to Hera.”

“The jewels are gone?” the other priest demanded.

“I had no time to try to stop the thief,” Eryalus lied. “I was taken completely unawares. I can only hope that the Goddess forgives me.”

“It was not your fault, Eryalus,” the other priest declared, placing a comforting hand on his colleague’s shoulder. “I am certain that you did all you could.”

“I think it is plain what happened here,” Eryalus stated.

He gestured towards where Sebastos was kneeling, still alongside Alcaeos’ body, with the sword of one of the guards at his throat.

“Alcaeos clearly disturbed the thief as he was about to leave,” Eryalus went on. “He was struck down… murdered by this… defiler. We must search him for the jewels… interrogate him before we take him to the High Priest for judgement.” He looked at the guards. “Seize him!”

The guards did as they were told and grabbed hold of the hapless young man, dragging him backwards away from Alcaeos with their swords drawn.

“Let me go!” Sebastos demanded. “I am innocent. I came to pray to the Goddess and found him lying like that. I was only trying to help him. Please! I have done nothing wrong!”

“That will be for the Gods to decide,” Eryalus hissed nastily. “Take him away.”

“Wait!” the other priest said sharply.

As Sebastos had been dragged backwards, he had moved forwards to bend over Alcaeos.

“Our brother is still alive,” he declared. “Our first thoughts must be for him.”

He looked past Eryalus and the guards to where a young acolyte, clearly drawn by the commotion, was making his way to them, rubbing sleep out of his eyes.

“Go to Cynus and beg the King to send a healer,” he instructed the boy. “Hurry! Alcaeos’ life may depend upon your speed.”

He looked back at the guards, holding the struggling Sebastos between them.

“We will get to the bottom of this matter,” he stated. “Take him and lock him up until the High Priest has the time to question him.”

Jason turned away, sickened. He knew how this would turn out from the scene he had witnessed earlier; knew that Sebastos would be condemned to death and did not want to see anymore, knowing that there was nothing he could do to stop it.

The scene faded away again and Jason started to limp off, following his original course and heading towards the latrine. As he walked he wondered, though; why were they being forced to watch these particular scenes from the past? There surely must be a reason for it – but for the life of him, he couldn’t think of what that reason might be. It wasn’t as if they could change what happened after all, and nothing he was seeing was giving him any hints as to how they might escape from here. He frowned. He needed to talk to Pythagoras as soon as the mathematician was awake. Given how clever his friend was, if there was anyone who could make sense of all this it would be Pythagoras.

 


	3. Running Out of Time

Time seemed to move differently in the temple. It was impossible to tell how long they had really been here – although it seemed like days. The scenes from the past seemed to appear in no particular order: now they saw the temple being destroyed – racked by earthquakes that tumbled walls and broke pillars; then they saw it being built. It was confusing to never know which bit of the building’s history they were going to find themselves in at any given time.

It was after they had witnessed the destruction of the temple that Pythagoras had told Jason what he knew of the history of the ruined palace of Cynus; how the earth had shaken and the people fled; how the Gods had been angry and laid waste to the palace – but no-one seemed to know why.

Pythagoras bit his lip and frowned worriedly as he checked their supplies for the fifth time in a row. It was no good; no matter how many times he looked, the basic facts did not change: they were rapidly running out of food and (even more worrying) would soon be out of water. He looked up, his frown deepening even more, as Jason limped back into the little storeroom where they had set up camp, trying to work out whether his friend was limping more heavily than he had yesterday (although Pythagoras was not sure that it _was_ yesterday given that he could not actually be certain of the passage of time).

So far nothing they had come up with had worked in their attempts to leave the temple. They had followed Pythagoras’ original plan to return the jewels to Hera’s crown but had found that (like the food and wood) they could not actually dig up the casket here in the past. Pythagoras had then attempted making both prayers and offerings in an attempt to appease the Goddess, but Hera had not relented. Every time they looked outside, the fog was still thickly wreathed around the building and neither of them wanted to risk another encounter with whatever was hiding in it right now.

“I fear we will have to ration the supplies even more,” Pythagoras said, looking at his friend.

Jason grimaced.

“We _have_ to get out of here,” he muttered.

“Indeed,” Pythagoras agreed, “and if you have any new ideas as to how we might do that I would love to hear them.”

Jason lowered himself carefully down to sit next to his friend, wincing slightly as his stitches pulled again.

“No,” he replied apologetically. “I am sorry. We have tried everything that I could think of.”

Pythagoras sighed and hooked his arms around his knees.

“It is alright,” he said. “I am all out of ideas too.”

“I wonder what Hercules is doing,” Jason said.

“I would imagine that he is probably in the tavern or eating,” Pythagoras replied. “Why do you ask?”

“I suppose I thought that maybe he might have wondered where we were and come looking,” Jason answered. “I mean… even Hercules must have realised we haven’t made it home by now.”

“Actually, I suspect that Hercules will not have noted our absence,” Pythagoras said. “If only because I believe that time is moving differently for us here than it is outside.”

Jason frowned.

“I don’t understand,” he confessed.

Pythagoras sighed.

“I might be wrong,” he began, “but I suspect that although it seems as though we have been here for days, no time at all will have passed outside the temple…”

“Are you serious?” Jason demanded.

“Unfortunately so,” Pythagoras replied. “There are signs which would seem to indicate it. Time does not seem to be moving forwards in the usual fashion. We are seeing things that happened out of order. For instance, we saw the death of the man who stole the jewels and set all this in motion in the first place and then later we saw him as a child with his father.”

From what they had seen, Eryalus had tried to go back for the jewels he had stolen (and been willing to kill for) but one of the tremors that were slowly shaking the temple to pieces had struck and he had been killed by a falling pillar before he had been able to retrieve them. Somehow, neither Jason nor Pythagoras had been able to feel sorry – it had almost felt like justice (even if it did mean the casket had been left there for them to find, triggering this whole misadventure).

Jason nodded thoughtfully.

“There is something else as well,” Pythagoras told him. “We were both wounded to a greater or lesser extent when we tried to leave the temple what would appear to be several days ago now.”

“Tell me about it,” Jason replied dryly.

“The point I am trying to make,” Pythagoras said patiently, “is that, as someone who is very interested in the healing arts, I have made a study of human anatomy and the healing of wounds. Given the days that seemed to have passed, I would have expected both of us to have healed somewhat… but that has not happened. It indicates to me that time is not passing in an ordinary manner… and that what we are experiencing as days is in fact a matter of hours – or moments.”

“But surely that’s a good thing?” Jason asked with a frown. “I mean, if no time is really passing then nothing can really happen to us… right?”

Pythagoras grimaced.

“I am not sure it is so simple,” he replied. “We have already discovered that we can be hurt, and I suspect that equally we could easily starve if we were to run out of food. We are in essence stuck in a moment in time but we still need to eat, drink and sleep.”

“So we’re in a lot of trouble then,” Jason muttered. He didn’t really expect an answer – the truth was fairly plain to them both.

They sat in silence for a few moments, each caught up in their own morose thoughts. Finally, Jason rallied.

“Come on,” he said, pushing himself to his feet. “There must be something we are missing. I refuse to believe that there is no way out of this.”

Pythagoras sighed and shook his head.

“You really believe that?” he asked.

“Yes,” Jason replied.

“Why?”

“I’m an optimist,” Jason said with a faint smile.

“Mathematically, your optimism is entirely misplaced,” Pythagoras stated. “The odds suggest that we will not escape; that we will die here.”

Jason rolled his eyes and shook his head, a little frustrated by his friend’s pessimism (even if he _could_ understand it).

Pythagoras blushed in response to the irritated look Jason was directing at him. He hadn’t meant to sound so pessimistic and knew that it would do no good to dwell on the negative possibilities; if they were to have any chance of making it out of this situation, they needed to remain positive and look for the solution rather than allowing themselves to sink into despair.

“You are right,” he said with fake optimism. “Whatever it is that we are overlooking is probably something terribly simple. We should search the temple again and see if there is some little thing we might have missed or dismissed as unimportant so far.”

Jason offered his hand to Pythagoras, pulling his friend to his feet. He winced and dropped his hand down to the bandage on his thigh, closing his eyes against the sudden (and unexpected) shooting pain that shot through his leg. When he opened them again, it was to see Pythagoras staring at him, concern brimming in his blue eyes.

“Are you alright?” the mathematician asked earnestly.

“Yeah,” Jason answered. “I’m fine. It just catches me every now and then – you know?”

“Not really,” Pythagoras replied, “but I will take your word for it for now. If it becomes more painful, then let me know. I cannot help if you will not let me.”

Jason offered him a faint smile.

“Let’s go,” he said. “The sooner we are out of here the better it will be for both of us.”

“Yes,” Pythagoras agreed.

They slipped back out into the main body of the temple, trying to ignore what they were seeing. It was a scene they had both seen before and neither of them wished to see again: the execution of young Sebastos for a crime that they both knew he did not commit.

As they crossed the floor to the other side, the scene changed again to one from earlier in the apparent history of the temple, when the statue of Hera had not yet even begun to be created. Jason pulled a face at Pythagoras.

“All this bouncing about in time is getting to be a bit disorientating,” he murmured.

“Mmm,” Pythagoras hummed his agreement. “Come on. Let us have another look at what is down there.”

He pointed through a doorway to a set of stairs that descended into the earth.

“Alright,” Jason replied.

They made their way slowly down the steps and into the chamber below. It appeared to be some sort of guard room or cell (although neither of them wanted to guess what it had been used for). When they had explored a couple of days ago (or at least what seemed to be a couple of days ago) it had been completely empty. Now though, there was a figure in the far corner, behind the grill that turned the room into a cell. The figure seemed to be tied up. As Jason and Pythagoras stepped off the bottom of the stairs, the figure raised its head and seemed to look straight at them. It was Sebastos.

“Are you here to torment me some more?” the young man spat. “I cannot tell you what I do not know. I am innocent! What will it take to make you people believe that?”

Jason glanced behind himself to see who else had entered the room. There was no-one. He exchanged a shocked look with Pythagoras. The mathematician stepped forwards towards the grating.

“You can see us?” he asked carefully, not really expecting a response.

Sebastos snorted, coming forwards to the grill.

“Of course,” he said.

He peered more closely at Pythagoras.

“Who are you?” he demanded. “I do not recognise you from either the temple or the palace.”

“No,” Pythagoras replied. “We are not from either the temple or the palace.”

He exchanged another look with Jason.

“We are travellers who got lost and ended up here,” he went on.

Sebastos snorted again.

“What do you take me for?” he growled. “I am not an idiot. No ‘lost traveller’ would be down here in the cells. This is a trick.”

Jason limped forwards to join his friend at the grating.

“It isn’t a trick,” he insisted. “We _have_ ended up here by accident and we would both very much like to go home… but we can’t at the moment,” he hesitated for a moment and exchanged a quick look with Pythagoras, uncertain how to explain things to Sebastos (or whether their unlikely story would be believed).

“When the jewels were stolen from Hera, the Goddess cursed anyone who touched them,” Pythagoras said earnestly. “They were never recovered and the temple fell into ruin. This… all of this that you see around us is not real… it is simply a shadow of the past; a memory of what happened. We found the casket and accidentally triggered the curse. Now we are as trapped in this situation as you are, and we are seeking a way to break this curse by any means that we can.”

“Do you think I am stupid?” Sebastos demanded. “Did you really think I would fall for such a fanciful story?”

Pythagoras grimaced. Before he could speak again, however, there was a noise on the stairs behind him. Both he and Jason turned to look.

“Talking to yourself?” Eryalus said nastily, coming down the stairs. “There is a name for people who do that.”

Sebastos glared at him.

“Oh, do not try to pretend you cannot see them,” he hissed, gesturing at Jason and Pythagoras. “I am not gullible enough to fall for those tricks!”

Eryalus raised an eyebrow and looked around the room incredulously.

“You really are quite mad, aren’t you?” he asked. “Seeing people who are not there… The High Priest will be interested to hear about this!” He turned to leave. “Oh, I forgot the reason I came down here,” he threw back over his shoulder. “It was to tell you to make your peace with the Gods. The brazen bull has been brought from Cynus especially for you. The next time someone comes down here to you, it will be to bring you to the bull.”

“Why are you doing this to me?” Sebastos pleaded. “If I have wronged you, let me know how so that I might make amends… but please, do not torment me in this way. If I am to die for a crime I did not commit, at least allow me some peace now.”

“You were found leaning over the fallen body of Alcaeos,” Eryalus replied. “You have been found guilty by the High Priest of Hera himself… I need no other reason than that.”

“He’s the one who did it,” Jason declared hotly, gesturing angrily at Eryalus. “He stole the jewels and hit that other priest over the head with the maul. He framed you to cover for himself.”

“What?” Sebastos said, his tone horrified.

“Are you stupid as well as mad?” Eryalus demanded. “The Gods demand restitution. Your life is forfeit. There is no more to be said.”

He stalked back up the steps to the main temple.

Sebastos sat staring at Pythagoras and Jason with growing horror.

“He really could not see you,” he exclaimed. “What _are_ you? What do you want with me?”

“We want nothing with you,” Pythagoras replied. “We only want to break this curse and get home. In essence, we are from the future.”

“The _future_?” Sebastos interrupted.

“Yes,” Pythagoras confirmed. “In our time, the palace at Cynus has been ruined for generations. Eighty years at least… and probably closer to a hundred. As for this temple, it has long been forgotten. I will admit that I am more a student of science and reason than history, but, still, I have lived for most of my adult life in the city of Atlantis, only a day’s walk from here, and I have never heard stories of it.”

“So you are telling me that you have travelled into the past?” Sebastos enquired.

Pythagoras exchanged a look with Jason.

“No,” he admitted. “We have not travelled into the past. As far as I can ascertain, we are stuck in a moment of time, cursed to witness moments from the past... but not in the order in which they originally happened. We have seen both the destruction and the building of the temple; we have also seen the theft of the jewels meant for Hera’s crown and the aftermath. You are the first person who has been able to see us.”

“You have seen what is to come?” Sebastos asked urgently. “They cannot truly believe that I did this terrible thing can they? I know that reason must prevail and I will survive this… won’t I?”

Pythagoras looked at him helplessly.

Sebastos sighed and closed his eyes as realisation dawned.

“No,” he said softly, sounding defeated. “I will not survive this… and even if I did, you said that the temple and the palace will be destroyed. My home will be gone.” He sighed again. “How can this be real?” he burst out after a moment. “You said that you were from… what was it? Nearly a hundred years in the future? Everyone and everything I care about will have disappeared by then…”

“It’s best not to think about it too much,” Jason said kindly, reaching through the grill as far as he could to rest a comforting hand on Sebastos’ shoulder. “If it helps, you could try to think that this is all a very vivid dream… or maybe some sort of hallucination.”

Pythagoras stared at Jason with growing suspicion in his eyes.

“ _Either I am dreaming or I’m hallucinating. Or I’m dead_ ,” he murmured, half to himself.

Jason’s eyes widened as he spotted the speculative look Pythagoras was throwing in his direction.

“Anyway,” he said, hurriedly trying to change the subject, “we haven’t had a great deal of luck so far in trying to break the curse and get away from here… but something must have changed.” He looked at Pythagoras. “No-one could see us before but now _he_ can… That must mean something.”

“Yes,” Pythagoras agreed, “but at present I am unsure what that something might be.” He turned back to Sebastos. “I’m sorry,” he apologised. “I’m forgetting my manners. I’m Pythagoras and this is Jason.”

“Sebastos,” the young prisoner replied. “So, you are telling me that you are cursed? And that you believe I might have something to do with it?”

“It is possible,” Pythagoras admitted.

Jason frowned.

“You said that you thought the key to breaking the curse was to return the jewels to the crown on the statue of Hera,” he said slowly.

“Yes,” Pythagoras replied, “but we have been unable to do that.”

“Why?” Sebastos asked curiously.

“We can’t touch anything here apart from the doors and door handles,” Jason said absently. “And this grating,” he added slowly.

Suddenly his eyes opened wide as an idea came to him and he grasped Pythagoras’ arm.

“ _We_ haven’t been able to retrieve the casket to return the jewels, but what if _he_ can?” he demanded urgently. “You said that this is a curse; that Hera wants her jewels back… but what if it’s more than that? What if we’ve been seeing all this,” he gestured around with his free arm, “because the Goddess wants us to put things right? To put right a wrong? And what if these aren’t just shadows of the past we are seeing? What if everyone here is actually stuck in some sort of bubble in time and we need to put things right to break that and return everyone to where they should be?”

Pythagoras looked at him dubiously.

“Jason, that seems a little farfetched,” he said gently.

“Perhaps,” Jason acknowledged, “but surely we have to try? What would it hurt to try to release Sebastos from here and show him where the casket is buried?” He turned to Sebastos. “You aren’t restrained are you? I mean, they haven’t tied you up or chained you to anything have they?”

“No,” Sebastos replied. “Aside from being in a barred cell, I am free.”

If his tone was slightly sarcastic then neither of the other young men could really blame him.

“You are right,” Pythagoras said. “We _do_ have to try… and the first thing will be to free Sebastos from this cell. But how we do that, I do not know. Neither of us have the strength of Hercules to bend the bars and I do not know who would have the key.”

“The High Priest has the only key,” Sebastos replied promptly.

“Hmm,” Pythagoras replied, examining the lock. “I fear that I do not list lockpicking as one of my skills and, unless there is something you have been hiding from me, I would guess that you do not either.” He looked at Jason as he spoke.

“No,” Jason answered. “I wouldn’t have the first idea really. I mean, I’ve _seen_ people pick locks but I’ve never actually done it. They just seem to stick something long and pointy into the lock, wiggle it around and the lock springs open… but I’m sure there’s probably more to it than that and I’m not sure we really have time to experiment.”

“So we are back to the start,” Sebastos said morosely. “You cannot pick the lock and so I am stuck in here with no way out until they come to take me to the bull.” He thought for a moment. “You have a sword,” he said, looking at Jason. “Could you not rush the guards as they come to take me?”

Jason rolled his eyes.

“There might be a few too many of them,” he pointed out. “Besides,” he added ruefully, “I tried that already and it didn’t work.” He rubbed the back of his head where the lump from where he had hit it on a pillar was still sore.

“Foiled again then,” Sebastos grunted.

“Oh I wouldn’t say that,” Jason replied absently, examining the hinges. “I’ve seen _Pirates of the Caribbean_.”

“What?” Pythagoras said, thoroughly confused by his friend’s strange and random pronouncement.

Every time he thought he had grown used to the bizarre things Jason could sometimes come out with, his friend would say something else which he really didn’t understand and threw him off track.

“Never mind,” Jason muttered, suddenly aware of what he had said. “What I meant was that, looking at the hinges, the door in the grating will lift right off them if we can find something to use as a lever. You couldn’t do it from the inside, but from out here… well, we should be able to get it off easily enough.”

“And where are we going to get a lever?” Pythagoras asked.

Jason looked around.

“That bench over there should do it,” he said, pointing towards the wall behind them. “Come on.”

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Pythagoras enquired. “We cannot seem to touch anything other than the doors.”

“Well we’ll never know if we don’t try, will we?” Jason grumbled. “Besides, if I am right and Hera really does want us to fix this, I think she’ll make it possible.”

Pythagoras looked at him steadily.

“Alright,” he said. “We will try it.”

“Before we do… could you nip up the stairs and have a look at what’s going on up there?” Jason asked. “I don’t want to get the door off and end up running into a load of priests and guards.”

Pythagoras nodded.

“That is a good idea,” he replied approvingly. “A little forward planning is always advisable.”

He trotted off up the steps and peered out into the temple, before returning just as hastily.

“It seems to be deserted up there,” he said. “It is strange.”

“Not if Hera is manipulating things,” Jason responded. “Let’s have a go at getting this door open.”

The two of them moved over to the bench and exchanged another look.

“Nothing ventured,” Jason muttered as they bent down to grasp the thing, each half expecting not to be able to touch it.

The bench lifted easily between the two of them. They looked at each other in surprise for a moment before moving back over to the grill.

Jason fought the urge to bite his lip as they moved. His leg was burning; the wound on his thigh feeling like it was on fire; sharp tendrils of pain wrapping themselves around the limb.

“What’s wrong?” Pythagoras asked softly as they placed the bench down on the floor.

“Nothing that you can fix right now,” Jason replied, silently cursing how observant his friend was.

“Jason,” Pythagoras began.

“My leg is hurting a bit, that’s all,” Jason said.

“A bit or a lot?” Pythagoras asked steadily. “I know you too well, Jason.”

Jason offered him a rueful half-smile.

“Yes, you do,” he admitted, “and once this is over I promise I’ll stop and let you do whatever you need to… but for now we don’t really have time.”

Pythagoras sighed and nodded.

“Very well,” he said.

Together, they manoeuvred one end of the bench into place through the grating.

“Alright,” Jason said. “We’ll try it on three. One… two…”

“Why is it always three?” Pythagoras asked brightly, momentarily distracted by his own thoughts. “It’s very interesting. Why not four, or five or…” He broke off, his smile fading as he saw Jason staring incredulously at him. “Sorry.”

“Three!” Jason retorted with exasperation.

They heaved together on the free end of the bench; pushing it towards the floor to lever the door up and off its hinges. The door came free and crashed to the floor noisily. Sebastos stepped through the gap.

“We should probably leave quickly before someone comes to investigate,” Pythagoras suggested.

“Yeah,” Jason agreed.

They hurried up the stairs and out into the main body of the temple. As they came out of the doorway, they could see the brazen bull standing in the middle of a pyre in front of the great statue of Hera. Sebastos shuddered as he saw it. Pythagoras placed a comforting hand on the young man’s shoulder.

“Come on,” he said. “It will not help to dwell on it.”

The three men moved across the chamber as quickly as they could and hid themselves behind one of the vast pillars in case anyone came to see what the noise was. Jason peered out from around it cautiously. He didn’t really expect that anyone would be able to see either him or Pythagoras but Sebastos was a different matter; if _he_ was caught then their hope for potentially breaking the curse would be dashed. No one was moving in the temple. The place seemed deserted once more.

“Looks like the coast is clear,” Jason said, pulling back round the pillar to face his two companions. “Come on.”

He limped out into the main body of the temple, not bothering to turn around to see if his companions were following him; he knew that Pythagoras, at least, would be there. At the base of the pillar where Eryalus had hidden the box, he stopped and peered at the floor.

“This is where the jewels were hidden?” Sebastos asked.

“Yes,” Pythagoras replied.

“Are you sure?” Sebastos said, frowning. “The floor is made stone. How did Eryalus manage to hide them here?”

Jason rolled his eyes.

“He levered up one of the flags, dug a shallow pit and then dropped the stone back into place,” he said patiently. “The men working on the statue had left a pile of tools at the base and he used those. It only took a few minutes really… if you’d been here just a few moments earlier, you would have caught him in the act.”

He looked around.

“We’ll need to find some tools ourselves,” he added.

“There is a room where the craftsmen store their tools,” Sebastos replied. He ventured a weak smile. “I have acted as a messenger between the palace and the temple for many years now. I was a child when I was first given the role. One of the advantages is that there are few places in either building that I do not know.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” Pythagoras asked.

They hurried off towards the storeroom that Sebastos was pointing out; a little room hidden behind the great statue of Athena. Both Pythagoras and Jason had been in it in their exploration of the temple but there hadn’t been any tools in there then (and it wouldn’t have helped them if there had been – given that they would not have been able to touch the things let alone use them); they could only hope that Sebastos knew what he was talking about now.

At first, Jason tried to keep up with the other two but after a moment he stopped. His leg was really hurting and he had the feeling that he really shouldn’t walk any further than was absolutely necessary on it. It was, perhaps, a better idea to rest it as much as possible now so that he would be able to run if he needed to later. As it was, it didn’t really need all three of them to go to fetch tools, so he leant against a pillar and waited for the other two to come back.

It was only a matter of a few minutes before Pythagoras and Sebastos returned, a short-handled spade (which could be used both to pry up the flagstone and dig up the casket) clutched in Sebastos' hand. He ran over to the pillar where the jewels were hidden and immediately set about prising up the paving. The slab came easily enough; evidence, perhaps, that the stones had not yet bedded into place properly.

Sebastos offered the other two a nervous look and set about uncovering the small casket.

“That was easier than I expected,” he muttered.

As he spoke, the earth heaved; a tremor that made the entire temple quake.

“I am afraid we may not have much time,” Pythagoras said, clinging onto a pillar to try to stay on his feet. “The Gods are angry.”

Over his shoulder, he heard Jason muttering something about natural occurrences and plates rubbing together, but (like so many of Jason’s odd ideas or comments) he chose to ignore it. Honestly, sometimes he worried about the state of his friend’s mind (and sense of timing).

Sebastos nodded tightly and moved a little faster. In just a moment or two, he had lifted the small box out of its hiding place.

“So much trouble about such a small thing,” he murmured.

“Yes,” Pythagoras agreed. “Now we just have to place the jewels in Hera’s crown.”

“And how exactly are we going to do that? Sebastos asked. “I did not like to ask before, but the crown is already in place on the statue. I am not a craftsman. I would not have the first idea of how to attach the things… besides which, the statue is exceptionally large and I do not have a head for heights.”

“You are afraid of heights?” Pythagoras clarified.

“Unfortunately, yes,” Sebastos replied. “I’m afraid that if I attempted to climb up there I would grow dizzy and sick and be no use to anyone.”

Pythagoras pulled a face.

“Then we may be in trouble,” he answered.

Jason looked at the box in Sebastos’ hands and then up at the statue thoughtfully.

“I might have an idea,” he said. “I just need to try something first.”

“What?” Pythagoras asked suspiciously. He knew from experience that Jason’s ideas could sometimes be more than a little risky.

Jason ignored him.

“Put the casket down on the ground,” he instructed Sebastos.

Once the young man had done as he had asked, Jason reached down as if he was going to pick it up. His fingers passed right through it (which was definitely a weird sensation).

“And what did that tell you?” Pythagoras asked sharply. “We already know that we can touch nothing.”

“That isn’t strictly true though, is it?” Jason challenged him. “We can open doors… and we moved that bench to free him easily enough.” He gestured at Sebastos.

“That _is_ true,” Pythagoras murmured thoughtfully.

Jason turned his head to look at Sebastos.

“Pick the box up and try to hand it to me,” he said.

“Surely the same thing will happen as when you tried to pick it up from the floor?” Sebastos said.

“Humour me,” Jason replied with an encouraging smile.

Sebastos rolled his eyes but did as he was asked.

Jason looked at the box once more.

“Alright then,” he murmured. “Let’s try this.”

He reached out to take the jewels from Sebastos; his fingers closing firmly around the box and lifting it clear easily. He puffed out a heavy breath.

“I wasn’t sure that would work,” he admitted.

“So Sebastos can hand us things,” Pythagoras said softly.

“Yeah,” Jason answered. “Since he was the only one who could see and talk to us, I thought that maybe he was some sort of link between our time and his.”

“So while we cannot generally touch items from his time because they do not actually exist in ours…” Pythagoras began.

“He can sort of bring things from out of his time into ours,” Jason finished. “I know it doesn’t really make sense, but we haven’t actually known the rules at any point anyway, so I thought it was worth a try.”

“It seems that the Goddess really does want us to put matters right,” Pythagoras remarked. “Otherwise I very much doubt that would have worked.”

“At least it means that one of us can climb up there instead of him,” Jason said. “I don’t have a problem with heights so…”

Pythagoras sighed in exasperation and glared at his friend.

“You also have an injured leg,” he pointed out. “I do not think you should even be attempting to climb the statue.”

“I’ll be fine,” Jason protested.

“I don’t care if you think you will be or not,” Pythagoras said firmly. “I am not going to allow you to do this thing. Give the jewels to me. If someone must climb up there, I will be the one to do it.”

“It’s too dangerous,” Jason protested.

“I would imagine it would be more dangerous for you than for me at this present moment,” Pythagoras retorted sharply. “ _I_ have two working arms and two working legs. _You_ are struggling to keep up whenever we need to walk anywhere… and don’t think I didn’t notice you leaning on that pillar for support when Sebastos and I came back from fetching the tools. Besides,” he added, “do you have even the faintest idea of how to attach these jewels into Hera’s crown?”

“I’d have worked it out,” Jason muttered. “And I doubt you have much more idea how to do it than me.”

“Ah but you see that is where you are wrong,” Pythagoras replied. “When I was growing up on Samos, my mother’s family were craftsmen. They lived at the opposite side of the island to them and we visited infrequently, but I still grew up watching them working in their workshop. I may not have chosen to follow the path of a craftsman myself but I still understand the principles.”

He moved out into the centre of the chamber, gesturing for the other two to follow him.

“Do you see the gaps in the crown where the jewels are meant to be set?” he asked, pointing up at the thing.

“Yes,” Jason replied begrudgingly.

“Surrounding those gaps are small prongs,” Pythagoras stated. “Once the jewels are set where they should be, the craftsman would bend those prongs over to hold them in place permanently… Of course, that would usually happen at a work bench on the ground and not up in the air,” he added. “I cannot imagine what the craftsmen here must have been thinking to crown the statue before the jewels were set into it. It would have made their job ten times harder.”

He looked significantly at Jason.

“So now that we have ascertained that I know what I am doing, will you trust me to do this thing?” he asked softly.

Jason sighed ruefully and pulled a face.

“I don’t like it,” he admitted, “but you probably are the best person to be doing this at the moment.”

Pythagoras smiled and held out his hand. Jason handed him the box and the young mathematician opened it, revealing the gems that were nestled inside.

“It will be easier to carry them without the box,” he remarked, taking the jewels out and discarding the casket.

He twisted up the hem of his tunic and tied it into a knot, tucking the knot into his belt to make a small but secure pouch. He dropped the gems inside.

“I will need a tool to bend those prongs into place,” he murmured.

“I think I saw something that will work in the storeroom,” Sebastos said, keen to help. “I will go and get it.”

He hurried off before either of the others could say anything.

“Do you really believe that what we are doing might actually change what happened in the past?” Pythagoras asked conversationally.

Jason shrugged.

“Who knows?” he said. “I’ve never been in this precise sort of situation before.”

“No,” Pythagoras agreed. “It is a little beyond my experience too.” He looked towards the back of the chamber where Sebastos had disappeared behind the statue. “I like Sebastos,” he admitted. “I hope that what we are doing _does_ change the past and that he survives.”

“Yeah,” Jason agreed. “Me too.”

Before either of them could say any more, Sebastos darted out from behind the statue and trotted over to them, brandishing a pair of pliers.

“Those should work,” Pythagoras said, taking them from the young man. “Thank you.”

He hesitated for a moment.

“I think you should leave as soon as I have the jewels in Hera’s crown,” he advised softly.

“Why?” Sebastos asked. “The palace and the temple are the only home I have ever known. Surely once the gems are in place, everything will be able to return to normal?”

“Even if the jewels are returned, there is no proof that you did not steal them in the first place,” Pythagoras said seriously. “And there is also the matter of the priest you are accused of attacking… I fear that they will not let you go even if the jewels are placed into Hera’s crown. They believe you to be guilty and I suspect your execution will continue regardless.”

Sebastos visibly deflated.

“So I will still lose everything,” he murmured.

“You’ll be alive,” Jason replied bluntly but not unkindly. “And that has to be better than the alternative.”

He looked significantly at the brazen bull.

“You are right,” Sebastos sighed. “Of course you are… It is just… where will I go? I know nowhere other than here.”

“If you will take my advice, you will run as fast and as far away from here as you can,” Pythagoras answered. “You should get enough of a head start before they discover you are not in the cell to allow you to evade any pursuers completely.”

“I will take your advice,” Sebastos said. “Starting again somewhere new will not be easy… but I would rather that than face my end in the bull.”

“How did you get here?” Eryalus’ voice rang out across the chamber. “How did you escape?”

He strode towards Sebastos, still apparently unaware of Jason and Pythagoras’ presence; still unable to see or hear them. As he moved nearer to the centre of the chamber, the lifted flagstone and small pile of earth from where Sebastos had dug up the casket caught his eye and he turned his head to look fully, eyes growing wide as he spotted the discarded jewel box.

“Where are they?” he hissed turning back towards Sebastos and striding forwards; bearing down on the young man. “What have you done with them?”

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” Sebastos replied nervously.

“You know _exactly_ what I am talking about,” Eryalus growled. “Tell me or I will kill you where you stand.” He pulled a knife from somewhere inside his chiton.

Sebastos stumbled backwards.

“Whatever you are looking for, I do not have it,” he protested.

“Give me the jewels!” Eryalus retorted.

He rushed forwards with the knife raised.

As he did, the earth heaved again; a tremor striking the temple suddenly. The massive bronze bull began to rock dangerously. Jason looked around quickly. Pythagoras was out of range if the thing fell but Sebastos was not. He grabbed the young man around the waist and threw himself backwards, dragging Sebastos with him. They landed in a tangled heap on the floor. A split second later, the brazen bull fell. At the last possible moment, when it was far too late to move, Eryalus looked up and saw it falling towards him, face transforming in horror and terror.

The tremor continued for several long moments (although it felt much longer to the three young men at the centre of it). Here and there bits of masonry fell and they tried to cover their heads as best they could, hoping that nothing hit them.

When the quake finally stopped and the dust settled, Pythagoras and Sebastos started to push themselves up and to look around. Jason stayed where he was for a moment, still winded from the elbow Sebastos had inadvertently thrust into his stomach as they had fallen, before taking the young man’s outstretched hand and allowing himself to be pulled to his feet. Pythagoras moved over to where Eryalus was lying, half under the bull and poked him with one foot. When Eryalus did not move, he crouched down, careful to avoid the growing puddle of blood coming from under the man and rested his fingers against the side of the priest’s neck.

“He is dead,” he said. “He seems to have fallen on his own knife.”

“It couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy,” Jason replied sarcastically (if still a little breathlessly).

Pythagoras nodded and stood up.

“We must do this quickly before someone comes,” he said.

He looked up at the massive statue.

“Wish me luck,” he added.

Having got the other two to boost him up onto the plinth surrounding the statue, Pythagoras began the climb. It felt almost laboriously slow and yet he really couldn’t go any quicker; as it was there were a couple of places where he began to slip and heard one of his companions give a faint gasp from below. Finally, though, he was at the top. Now would come the tricky bit. How was he going to set the jewels in place without falling? Now he was up here it seemed impossible. If he didn’t hold onto the statue he would fall, and yet he could not set the gems in place with only one hand.

Pythagoras considered the problem for a moment, clinging onto the statue as best he could. He peered at the head behind the crown, an idea beginning to form. Slowly and carefully, he inched himself into place so that he was sitting astride the head. It felt precarious but was the best solution he could come up with. He offered a silent prayer to the Goddess; apologising in case she felt offended by him sitting there. Then he leant forward over the front and began the process of setting the jewels into place.

Eventually, the last jewel was set into the centre of Hera’s crown. Pythagoras began the slow process of climbing back down, slithering in places, but not daring to go any faster and risking a potentially disastrous fall. By the time he was back on the ground, he was distinctly out of breath and his legs felt decidedly wobbly. Still, he was glad he had been the one to make the climb; on any ordinary day he knew that Jason would have insisted on going himself, but, given his friend’s injury, Pythagoras suspected he would not have been able to make it – it had been far more strenuous than he had been expecting.

He turned to Sebastos.

“Thank you for helping us,” he said. “We could not even have touched those jewels without you.”

“I think I should be the one thanking you both for freeing me and saving my life,” Sebastos replied.

“You will not be saved until you are safely away from this place,” Pythagoras responded. “You must go before anyone comes.”

“Yes,” Sebastos agreed with a smile. “Thank you again… for everything.”

He embraced his two companions before turning and running towards the great door to the temple. In the doorway, he paused and raised a hand in farewell, before diving out into the bright evening beyond.

The door closed.

“Do you think it worked?” Jason asked Pythagoras. “Did the curse get broken?”

“I do not know,” Pythagoras answered, turning to face his friend. “I suspect we will find out when we try to leave.”

A commotion behind them made them both turn. The High Priest was picking his way through the debris of the earthquake flanked by several other priests, giving orders to clear up the temple. He stopped when he saw the brazen bull lying on its side.

“Ensure that the bull is set back in the pyre and that the craftsmen check it to make sure it is still working,” he rumbled.

“Eryalus!” One of the other priests exclaimed as he spotted the body of the other man.

He darted forwards and checked the still figure.

“He is dead,” he informed his companions.

The High Priest sighed. He seemed genuinely saddened.

“Take his body to the offering chamber,” he instructed. “We will bury our brother with all the proper observances at dawn. Tonight we must prepare for the execution of Sebastos.”

“Look!” A priest exclaimed urgently, grasping the High Priest’s arm and pointing up at the statue. “The jewels! They are in Hera’s crown!”

“It is a miracle,” the High Priest proclaimed. “The Goddess must have reclaimed them from wherever the defiler hid them. It is a sign of her favour. It shows that our course is correct. We will leave the boy in his cell until the time comes… then when the moon is at its height and the King is present, we will bring him forwards and execute him as the criminal he has proved to be.”

He looked at Eryalus’ body one more.

“Lay him out and prepare him for his journey to the underworld,” he said.

The scene began to fade around Jason and Pythagoras; the figures becoming hazy and indistinct. Another tremor hit, even more powerful than before; walls swaying and cracking; great chunks of stone beginning to reign down and huge cracks appearing in the floor as the paving was ripped up.

Pythagoras grabbed his friend’s arm.

“Run!” he shouted above the noise of the tremor.

They lurched across the floor and out into the sunlight beyond, stumbling down the steps of the stylobate and racing across the causeway as the temple disintegrated behind them. Half way along the causeway, Jason stumbled and fell. He half lay on the ground, staring in shock at the great cloud of dust that billowed out from where the temple had been, unable to force himself to get up and run any further. Pythagoras had stopped and turned when his friend had fallen. He stood there with his mouth open at the sight of the temple turning back into the ruin they had first entered.

Finally the dust settled. Pythagoras looked around.

“The fog is gone,” he remarked.

“Yeah,” Jason replied. “I guess we did manage to break the curse after all.”

Pythagoras swallowed hard and nodded, looking up to gauge the position of the sun.

“Indeed,” he said. “Now I think we should look for somewhere to camp for the night and set out for home in the morning.”

Jason grimaced and forced himself to stand. His leg was on fire and felt like it wouldn’t hold his weight, trembling horribly. He took a tentative step forwards and was unable to stop himself yelping.

Pythagoras frowned and ducked under his friend’s arm, dragging it across his shoulders and taking some of Jason’s weight.

“Come on,” he said softly. “You have been walking around with that injury for too long already. If I remember rightly, there was a clearing not far into the woods. We can set up camp there and I can treat your wound properly.”

They limped slowly to the far edge of the causeway. Pythagoras stopped and helped his friend lower himself onto a fallen log.

“Wait here for a moment,” he said. “I wish to refill the water skins. I suspect I may need clean water later.”

Jason nodded and let his head drop forwards. He was exhausted. Neither of them had slept all that much while they were in the temple and he knew from the dark circles under the mathematician’s eyes that Pythagoras wasn’t much better off than he was.

He must have dropped off to sleep for a moment or two because the next thing he knew he was being shaken awake by a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“You cannot sleep there,” Pythagoras said apologetically. “Come on. The sooner we get to the clearing, the sooner we can both rest properly.”  He hesitated. “I must admit that I am looking forwards to going home and sleeping in my own bed.”

“Yeah,” Jason answered.

He pulled a face at the thought of moving but pushed himself to his feet nonetheless.

They made their way through the trees to the small clearing Pythagoras had remembered seeing. Once there, Jason sat down on the ground gratefully – he wasn’t sure how much longer he would have been able to stay on his feet; his leg was killing him. He leant back with his hands splayed behind him and looked up at the canopy, turning his face towards the warm sunlight.

“It’s good to see daylight again,” he said softly.

“Yes,” Pythagoras agreed. He sat down and looked around himself. “The fresh air is lovely and it is good to see something other than a dimly lit room.”

They sat in silence for a few moments, simply enjoying the feeling of being outdoors. Finally, Pythagoras shook himself.

“This is not helping anyone,” he said. “I believe I saw some comfrey growing down at the edge of the lake and yarrow and chamomile amongst the trees between here and there. As all three are useful for reducing inflammation and healing wounds, I will go and collect some.” He looked at Jason. “You wait here.”

Before Jason could reply, he had taken his satchel off his shoulder, stood up and headed off. Jason sat still for a few minutes longer, enjoying the evening sunshine, before he forced himself to stand, keeping as much weight off his bad leg as he could. He might not be able to help Pythagoras fetch the herbs he wanted, but the least he could do was to get the camp set up and a fire lit before the mathematician came back – he had enough experience in setting up camps by now that it should only be the work of a few minutes.

By the time Pythagoras came back through the trees, Jason had got a crackling fire going and had laid out the blankets, sitting down on his own one.

Pythagoras smiled in appreciation.

“Thank you,” he said simply. “Now let me see that wound.”

He frowned as he looked at the grubby bandage wrapped around his friend’s upper leg. It had been clean when he had applied it a couple of days ago (or at least that’s what it had felt like in the temple), but with their supplies being limited he hadn’t been able to change it as often as he would have liked. He unwound it carefully and dropped it to one side.

Under the bandage was a pad of cloth Pythagoras had used both the protect the stitched wound and to apply a poultice. He went to lift the pad away from Jason’s leg but paused, his frown deepening, as he realised it was stuck to the skin below.

“I think I may have to soak this off,” he remarked.

“Do whatever you need to,” Jason responded.

Pythagoras nodded tightly. He grabbed the small cooking pan they usually brought on journeys from his bag, filled it with water from a skin and slung it over the fire to boil. Then he fumbled in his pack again for a clean bandage and a piece of cloth. He dropped them into the pan of water.

Taking a second water skin, he slowly poured it onto the cloth pad that was stuck to his friend’s leg, loosening it as gently as he could with his fingers. When he was reasonably sure it would come away without too much pulling, he looked up at Jason.

“This last bit might sting a little,” he apologised.

Jason grunted and motioned for him to continue. He didn’t really trust himself to speak at the moment – this was already hurting a bit more than he would like to admit. He knew that Pythagoras would feel guilty if he knew and that was the last thing Jason wanted.

Without any more warning, Pythagoras carefully pulled the cloth free, trying to ignore the little hiss of pain he heard from his friend. The skin either side of the stitches was red, swollen and hot, and the stitches themselves looked inflamed. Pythagoras frowned deeply, biting his lip.

“This is not good,” he said softly. “The first signs of infection have set in.”

“I’m sure it will be fine,” Jason replied. “You’re a good healer. You’ll fix it.”

Pythagoras raised an eyebrow.

“Your faith in me is touching,” he said, “but out here in the forest with limited supplies there is not a great deal I can do.” He paused and peered at the wound again. “I will do what I can, of course. I will clean the wound and apply a fresh bandage… and the herbs I have picked will help, once I have mixed them into a poultice… but until we get home there is nothing else I can do.” He paused again. “Of course, once we are at home I should be able to treat you properly to clear up this infection quickly. It is not serious at present and should heal well with proper treatment.”

“Do what you can for now,” Jason answered.

Pythagoras nodded. He reached into his pack once more and grabbed his food bowl. Having checked it was clean, he poured some cold water into it and, using the tip of his knife, removed the bandage and the piece of cloth from the hot water and plunged them into the bowl of cold water. Then he turned back to Jason.

“Could I borrow your bowl please?” he asked politely.

Once he had the bowl, he crushed the herbs he had picked into a paste, mixing them with a little water. Then he grabbed the last clean piece of bandage he had in his pack and used it with the remaining water in the skin to thoroughly clean Jason’s leg. He slathered the thick poultice on top of the stitches and took the cloth and the bandage from the cold water, placing the cloth as a soft pad on top of the poultice and wrapping the whole thing in the clean bandage. Finally, he gathered up the dirty bandages and shoved them deep within his bag, planning on washing (or possibly burning) them when he got home. Then he sat back.

“Right,” he said. “Supper.”

“I didn’t think we had much left,” Jason replied.

“We do not,” Pythagoras agreed, “but, although I am not the sort of hunter Hercules reveres, I am competent enough at setting traps. I will go and set some now and refill the water skins once more. I am certain than in a short time we will have rabbit for supper… or at least for breakfast. There are berries in the bushes around here that I can pick too. Our lack of supplies is unimportant. Nature has provided a rich bounty for us.”

“I should help,” Jason began.

“I would rather you did not,” Pythagoras replied honestly. “You need to rest that leg if we are to even attempt to make it home tomorrow.”

“Alright,” Jason sighed.

“Good,” Pythagoras said. “I will be back shortly.”

He stood, grabbed a couple of things from his bag and hurried off out of the clearing, leaving Jason alone to enjoy the evening sunshine and dream of going home.

 

* * *

 

 

Hercules made his way along the mountain paths near to the ruined palace at Cynus cautiously. He had seen no evidence of any thieves or bandits on his journey so far but it would still pay him to be alert.

After leaving Atlantis, he had walked as far as he could towards Cynus and the valley beyond it that he was searching for before tiredness had overtaken him. After all, he had spent the night before guarding Idas’ workshop (the very thought of the deceitful merchant made him growl under his breath) and had only had a few hours of sleep in the morning after; fully expecting to catch up once the boys had delivered the rest of the cargo. Knowing that it would be unwise to continue to travel in the dark while he was so tired, he had rested for a while at the hunting lodge and seen evidence that someone (and he assumed it was his friends) had spent a night there recently.

Through the densely packed trees, he spotted a thin trail of smoke and smelled something cooking – something delicious if his nose didn’t deceive him. Hercules’ stomach rumbled at the smell and he was sharply reminded that he hadn’t eaten since yesterday morning when he had had a meagre breakfast at home before getting a few hours of sleep. The pie he had promised himself later in the day had never materialised once he had been distracted by Clytius’ warning.

He crept closer to the smell, telling himself that he would get a good look at whoever was camped there and then be on his way without the occupants ever knowing of his presence. The likelihood was that it was simply some other travellers and Hercules would be able to continue on his way without needing to disturb them.

He climbed a deceptively steep bank and peered down into the clearing below. What he saw there made him stop and stare.

Pythagoras was crouched near to a cooking fire, stirring something in a pot suspended from a makeshift tripod. Hercules suspected that if he was closer he would be able to hear the lad humming to himself. The presence of rumpled blankets behind him indicated that he hadn’t been up all that long. To one side, the burly wrestler could see Jason, still sleeping with his back to him.

Hercules began to scramble hurriedly down into the small clearing from the top of the bank, intent on reaching his friends and checking they were alright as quickly as possible. Pythagoras looked up at the noise, his thin face transforming into a happy beam as he spotted and recognised his older friend.

“Hercules!” he exclaimed. “What are you doing here? It is good to see you!”

As he spoke he pushed himself to his feet and rushed across the clearing to catch Hercules in a big hug.

“I thought the two of you might have got yourselves into trouble without me here to look out for you,” Hercules replied. He paused, looking guilty. “Actually, I found out that Idas hadn’t told me the complete truth,” he admitted. “So I came to find you.”

 He glanced across at Jason, eyes narrowing as he spotted the bandage wrapped around his friend’s thigh.

“Is he hurt?” he asked.

“He will be fine,” Pythagoras replied. “He has injured his leg and there is a slight infection but with proper care it will heal.”

Hercules’ eyes narrowed even further as he turned back to Pythagoras and spotted the dark bruises and livid gashes marring the thin throat. He reached out one meaty hand and gently pulled the neck of his friend’s tunic down at the back so that he could see how far the marks extended, cursing himself for not noticing them immediately. He had been so happy to see Pythagoras that he hadn’t even checked whether the young man was hurt.

“What about you?” he rumbled. “How badly are you hurt?”

“I am also not badly harmed,” Pythagoras replied. “Really it is nothing.”

“It doesn’t look like nothing,” Hercules growled, gently running his fingers over his friend’s swollen cheek. “It looks like someone beat you to Hades and back.”

“I have had far worse,” Pythagoras countered, pulling away.

Hercules was unpleasantly reminded of the revelations that there had been about the boy’s father just a few short months ago. He opened his mouth to say something else but before he could he was interrupted.

“Hercules!”

Jason sounded as pleased to see him as Pythagoras had been. Hercules turned around to see his dark haired friend rubbing sleep out of his eyes and carefully standing up, clearly testing to see whether his injured leg would hold before trusting his entire weight to it. He limped across the clearing to join the other two, smiling.

“You couldn’t stay out of trouble could you?” Hercules grumbled good-naturedly. “I turn my back for a little while and look at the two of you!”

The two younger men looked at each other with amusement before turning back to face the burly wrestler.

“I hardly think that this can be classed as _our_ fault,” Pythagoras sniffed, although his eyes sparkled brightly even as he said it.

“You were the one that took this job after all,” Jason added. “And Pythagoras was right in the first place – it wasn’t simple and it wasn’t straightforward.”

Hercules deflated.

“I know,” he admitted. “It seems that Idas wasn’t entirely honest with me when he hired me. Those jewels he sent you to fetch weren’t his in the first place.”

“So we gathered,” Jason replied. “And it turns out Hera doesn’t much like people who take her things.”

Hercules winced.

“I swear I didn’t know,” he said.

“I never thought you did,” Pythagoras assured him. “You would never do anything to deliberately harm either one of us.” He smiled. “Since you are here now, perhaps we should have breakfast?”

Hercules’ face lit up and he rubbed his hands together gleefully.

Once they had all eaten, Pythagoras sat watching the fire pensively. He sighed.

“It seems a shame that we will not be paid for this journey,” he said. “After all we have been through in the past few days, it seems a little unfair.”

Hercules grinned.

“Who says we haven’t been?” he replied.

“What do you mean?” Jason asked, frowning in confusion.

“Let’s just say that I didn’t take to kindly to Idas lying to us like that,” the burly wrestler answered. “I went to see him to find out a bit more about precisely where you were heading, and I didn’t like the answers he gave all that much. He tried to refuse to pay me, but it seems he doesn’t like being dangled headfirst off a balcony any more than you do.” He looked at Pythagoras as he spoke.

Pythagoras blinked in surprise.

“You got the money out of him?” he asked.

“Every last coin,” Hercules gloated, patting a pouch at his waist.

He pushed himself to his feet, slung his bag across his shoulder and held out an arm to Jason, ready to help his young friend on the journey home.

“Come on,” he said. “I’m not having you collapse on the way home because you’ve been walking on that leg too much.”

Jason rolled his eyes but accepted the help gratefully. If he was honest he hadn’t been entirely sure that he would make it all the way home without help; his leg hurt more than he would really like to admit.

“You didn’t actually tell me what happened to the two of you,” Hercules remarked, as Pythagoras tidied up the last remains of their small camp.

“I am not sure you would believe us if we told you,” Pythagoras replied.

“Try me,” Hercules rumbled as they began to trudge back towards the mountain path and home. “And even if I don’t… well you know how much I like a good story. You can tell me all about it as we go home.”

 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Rarely Simple and Never Straightforward (Art)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14492154) by [MistressKat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistressKat/pseuds/MistressKat)




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